


Before the Dawn

by Wingedskywolf



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2020-05-13 05:52:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19245136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wingedskywolf/pseuds/Wingedskywolf
Summary: A fan fiction that takes place years before Lucio (A.K.A Montag) past tale "The Dawn of the Grub". Though this is the first chapter, thew out the story there will be more development of the characters, this is but a short intro. Hopefully I can come up with a better story title. My first fan fiction so I hope everyone enjoys. <3The only character I own is Fang, the rest belong to the creators of The Arcana.





	1. Chapter 1

Freshly fallen snow covered the ground, and the trees bark bared nothing but small piles of snow on there branches. The morning fog covered the landscape like a blanket, intensive the mid January cold. It was completely still.

Under one tree, a hunched over tall figure, fur pelt of a black covered the back. The figure's, head was covered by a hide of another animal as a hood hiding his face, thick black jacket with a white under shirt meant for the cold as he sat there completely still under the one huge tree. The figure finally moved their head toward the sound of the crunch of someone stepping on the snow and stood up seemingly clinching on to something that was covered by their coat. Holding perfectly still as the steps closed in, until they where right behind the tree. 

The vapor of the cold shown as the figure drawing out a dagger, as they bent their knees slightly. There was only silent, very still as it was before. The figure sprinted behind the tree lifting the dagger above their heads and sinks it into the bark of the tree, until realizing that it was no man that was behind the tree, but a small boy, around age seven that was a foot under the dagger. 

Quivering, this blond, fair skin boy stood there looking horrified under the daggers handle. The figure yanked it out, put the dagger away, and pulled back their hood looking down at the child, letting out an irritated sigh. 

The figure was a man, in his mi twenties, silver slicked back hair, with two small strands in the front dangling. Skin slightly paler than the small boy, he only glared at the child with his sappier colored eyes. “One day I’ll accidentally stab you, and have the full wrath of your mother on my back. Never sneak up on me like that.” He took a small sigh taking his seat back to where he originally was, his hands behind is back, leaning more so on the bark of the tree, his eyes shut.

The little boy walked around to where he was, seeming to have recovered from the incident but a bit wearier. “My birthday is tomorrow.”

“Congratulations goblin, you know your own birthday. What about it?” The man said still having yet to open his eyes.

“What are you going to get me?” The boy asked looking a bit eager.

The man peeked one eye open seeing that unfortunately the kid was still there. “Is that why you come to bother me? Risking getting my blade in your head?” He only watched as the boy nod. “Well, what would you like for your eight birthday?” He asked a bit sarcastically. 

The kids face brighten up seeming to not catch the tone, “Goat fur boots.”

The man sat up properly, eyes open looking at the kid. “What’s wrong with the new boots you have? You got them a week ago. Not like you drink enough milk to have outgrown them that fast.”

“There not goat fur, their rabbits. And I like goats.” The kid answered as he sat down with the man.

“Didn’t know it was that big of a difference…So no message from your mother, just here to ask about your birthday gift?” The boy nodded. “Why don’t you bother your father? He’s much more entertaining than I.”

“Papa is asleep-.”

“So was.”

“Your more fun to bother.”

The man leaned back again and laughed a tired one before messing up the kid’s hair. “You are troublesome.” The man finally stood up again. “Let’s go, I bet you never told your mother where you were going. We don’t want to waste another man hunt on you. And I’m not putting you over my shoulder again. You have two legs, use them.” The man walked ahead of the boy, as the boy followed suit. 

They both came to a small tribal village, with a few rectangular houses made of wood of upright timbers, stones turfs, and wattle walls. The small bare part of the wooden roof was do to smoke rising threw the small hole. The sound of the sharpening of metal, and banging of hammers lived up the place as men and women where busy doing their part to sustain order to the small village. 

A woman’s voice shouted, causing a wave of man and women, even the children at play to stop and the entire place went quiet as a name was being screamed out. “MONTAG!”

The boy jumped at the name, and the man looked down at him with a teasing grin, “Looks like someone in trouble.” 

The woman shouted again, but this time a different name with two times as much volume, “FANG!”

The man sighed, and gently whispered, “Dammit.” He fixed his poser. “Well goblin, it looks like where on your mothers chocking block.” The both hurried along to the sound of their names being called out at the huge wooden house.

The woman they met, that was shouting their names like thunder crackling the sky looked at both of them with displeasure and disappointment as she stood in of the main hall inside the house nicked-named the great hall. Her pale blond hair, much like her sons was also slid back with a small leather string on one side holding together a small braid. Wearing a dark brown cap, brown top, fur covered her shoulders, as a cheetah pelt was wrapped around her waist, griping her black with white markings spear in one hand. She looked at Fang, who looked calm as he was when he was asleep, stepped forward to him.

Their high was different, Fang towering over at her, yet remained unintimating to her. Then again those who knew this woman had the knowledge of knowing that nothing could surprise, or intimidate her. Even if death took a physical form, she would remain unbothered by it, and would brush it off as a nuisance. She looked up at him, with light gray eyes, “Where were you?”

“Taking a nap, did my rounds, had extra man survey the territory, no enemies in sight, so I decided to take a small nap, coming up with plans for the next siege like always.” The last part he hopes would calm her anger. 

She kept her eyes on him for a while, as if waiting for a slight move of a muscle to uncover if he was lying. After being satisfy with her small interrogation, if you could call it that, she turned her attention to Montag, who anyone could tell they were related due to such a strong resemblance. Her anger softens, ever so lightly, only so her son could see, and she spoke normally, not as harsh or threatening as she was with Fang. “Monty, if you wished to take a walk, you could have let me or your father know ahead of time. Especially that far of a distance. A bear or wolf could have attacked you.”

Montag, or Monty for short, looked down slightly, keeping his innocent composure, “I went to fine uncle Fangy-.”

Fang cringed at the word, making a slight displeasing face, unfortunately cause her to see this and turned to him again. “That true?” She asked.

“Yes Morga, he was just asking about his birthday party you been planning.” He answered holding a smug on his face.

“A party!?” Montag practically screamed, wide-eyed at his mother. “Ma, that true?”

Morga closed her eyes taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling before looking at her son. “I’ll explain later. Run along with the other children. Your uncle and I need to discuss some unfinished plans.” They both watched as Montag ran out of the building before looking back at each other. “A clever little stunt you pulled with the party.”

“I was spearing the goblin from seeing his mommy and his so-called Uncle get into a unneeded argument.”

“Your way of softening the blow. I'm not amused, that being said we need to talk.”

Fang moved to a cup near a pitcher, “This about the Western and Easterner border clan leaders taking the piss at each other again?” 

“Yes, they both fighting again. Unexpectedly.”

He poured himself a cup of ale “How is this unexpectedly, the two fight every what…three months?” He drew the cup to his lips, drinking it in one go before putting the cup back on the table. “Think they would have killed each other off by now.”

She walked up next to him grabbing the pitcher of ale and filled her own cup. “Annoying things seem to stay alive longer. You’re a perfect example.” 

A sarcastic tone exited Fangs voice. “Oh, you dare flatter?”

 

She ignored his sentence keeping the conversation on track, “I can’t decide who to take out first, though it’s tempting to over take both of them at the same time.” She took a drink of her ale.

 

“Best options are waiting for one to lose and taking both down at the very end, that way it would be easier, and less likely to lose any strong tribe members. But knowing you and your lack of patients we can make two separate forces and take each side out one by one since they would have small camp bases. We can make it look like their opposing side is doing it easily. Depends if we have enough supplies right now to do it. I can always check. Plus stealing the other two tribes’ supplies wouldn’t hurt either.”

 

Morga sat at the large chair at the very front of the dinning hall that was decorated by furs of different kinds. She looked down at her cup of ale for a moment before looking back at Fang who was waiting for an answer. “Check how we are with supplies. If we’re low tell the blacksmiths to make more, we’ll wait a bit longer tell both sides are weaken, that would give us enough time to make more weapons then we spring into attacking their bases.”

Fang smiled, took a slight bow, more for amusement than anything serious, “As you wish.” He turned and stared towards the door before stopping and turning back. “By the way your son wants new goat boots.”

She looked at him puzzled, “Why? He just got new rabbit boots a few weeks ago.”

“He likes goats, that’s why, I’m just letting you know.” Fang walked out of the great hall, leaving Morga by herself.


	2. Before the Dawn

Fang passed himself to one of the many blacksmiths areas the village to get inside on how things were going along with a few other things. The old blacksmiths house had weapons, shields, and armor showed inside. There standing at the smelting area, was a hunched older man, full beard covered his face, but non on his head, wearing a standard dirty ash stained shirt, and pants mixed with sweat, and a few burnt holes. 

 

Fang knocked on the wooden creaking door making his present even more well known. “Afli how are things?”

 

“As good as they come.” He replied, not even to turn to look at Fang, as he was fully concentrated in his work moving from station to station, having his routine so perfected, that it left a dragged trial around the work area. It was amazing to watch the man work, some children even stop to watch this man’s task, that seemed complex to them. But then again, the children were still learning how to sharpen their swords efficiently. “I have yet to fix your weapon, you’ll have to wait tell tomorrow, now scram before you make me over burn my mettle.”

 

“Wasn’t here about my weapon, though I appreciate the small update. Morga sent for me to gather information about how we are in smiting supply.”

 

Afli glanced at Fang, one eye blanked with three bear claw scares running parallel to the left side of his face. “She planning a raid again?”

 

“No, the Western and Eastern are at each other’s throats earlier than we expected, we plan to take both of them out, but we are waiting for the right moment. Mean time she wants to make sure we are ready for a big fight if thing get to…. bloody.”

 

“Not like you don’t both enjoy warm blood spilling in the fresh snow. This is good cause I’ve been meaning to inform that we are getting low on metals for smiting. No metal, no weapons and shields. Maybe you two can raid the east high mountains mining village. Not exactly good trading partners. But, if you don’t want to waste strong men’s energy this early, I suggest you make a deal with them.” He cleared his old ragged voice.

 

Fang sat in a chair holding one of the display swords, inspecting it, “I only made deals for more special cases. I can’t spread my charity, and generosity to much…. However, a raid would do. Small village hogging all the supplies, well that’s just greedy. Be good practice, don’t want our fighter stagnated for two long, and the young inexperienced fighters would have a proper test run.” He got up, “Plus the two other clans just started fighting again, and I don’t know exactly when we will make our move.” Fang put the sword away as he found it. “I’ll let Morga know, and I can assemble some small raid party.” He left and made his way around the village, more to the stables. 

 

As he came to the walk way of the stables, with chickens, and other animals for eating, a woman in her late forties it appears, rushed to him as with a wrath of fire following behind her, setting her sights on him. “Fang, get your ari-, your devil dog out of the pig pen!” The women was holding a large dagger, that she would use to cut the meals, pointing it directly at Fang.

 

“So that’s where Mortem has gone, that bastard. I’m sorry Koley, I’ll get him out, then I have something to discuss with you.”

 

“There will be no discussion until that devil is gone!” Koley stomped the ground with her foot.

 

Fang quickly ran to the back of the house where the pig pen was and saw as a huge black wolf, spikes on its back red as fresh blood, white face marking masking the wolfs face up to the end of his nose that looked like he was wearing his own upper skull, with one park that looked like lightening on opposite side of his face, and three scar marks on the right side of the wolfs eye. The wolfs long fangs lunged at a hopelessly to fat to move pig, before inches away from the pigs neck the wolf only stopped at the shouting of his name. “Mortem back off!” Fang open the pin, seeing all the other pigs, crowded to one side, then he turned his attention to the wolf who did what he was told and sat looking for direction from his owner. 

 

Fang pitched the middle of his brow and lightly stroke the wolfs head, then behind the haft torn right ear of the dog. “That’s tomorrow dinner for the whole clan, and I don’t think they would appreciate you sampling their food before it even hits the dining table.” He grabbed one of the four separate silver chains on Mortem collar, and lightly takes him out of the pin. Fang turned to shut the door, and as he turned around, he jumped a little seeing Monty standing in front of him petting Mortem. “Fuck! How long have you been following me you goblin?”

 

Monty turned his attention to Fang, still petting behind Mortem hear. “After you left the smiths house.”

 

“You need to wear a cow bell so everyone knows where you are tiny goblin.”

 

“I’m not tiny, and I’m not a goblin.” Monty protested angerly.

 

Fang crossed his arms, looking unamused at the small child. “Have you killed a pig, or chicken for the clan’s dinner?”

 

“No.” Monty answered, still mad.

 

“Have you even out to pick the harvest, or gathered the firewood and such? Making sword or shields? Or even held some contribution to your mother clan?”

 

The Monty thought for a moment before looking back up at Fang, “I can’t even pick up both.”

 

“Then you’re a goblin, you take but you don’t give back, or contribute to anything. If you start doing that, I may call you something else. Plus, you’re tiny like one, and you’ll stay that small if you don’t drink your milk. Yeah don’t think I wouldn’t notice you feeding Mortem milk under the table.”

 

“Mortem likes milk more than I do.”

 

“He’s not a picky eater, milk isn’t good for him.” Fang started walk back to where Koley was with Mortem at his side. He was passing through the stables before hearing the little foot sets, sighed hunching his back a little before turning his attention back to his second shadow. “Goblin, why don’t you play with the other clan children?”

 

“They don’t like me.” He watched as Fang looked around, went to a pile of hay, barrels, and peaked in each stall like he was looking for something. Monty walked next to Fang, as he was looking into a barrel. “What are you looking for?”

 

“I’m looking to see if I give a shit about your problems. And wouldn’t you know? I can’t seem to find it.” Fang slammed the top of the barrel back and walked out of the stable leaving Monty. He saw Koley who was impatiently, still welding her kitchen knife. “Koley, I apologize for my familiar’s behavior. He’s usually better than this.”

 

Koley glared at him, and pointed the knife in Fangs face, and that action lead Mortem to snarl, and into a poster to lung at the woman. “If I see that dog again, I’ll make dog stew out of him you here!”

 

Fang took a smart step back. “We’ll I’ll like to see you try, but before you get even more short tempered with me, how is the supplies for the horses?”

 

“Fine, now scat! And take that wicked wolf out of my sight.” Koley huffed and stormed back inside, slamming the door so hard, that some of the snow from her roof fell onto the round. 

 

“Hard to know why she’s still single. I’m not going to bother with the other blacksmiths, I’ll just presume we are low on that stuff in general.” He started up the path to head back to the great hall before being stop by kids Monty’s age.

 

The small kids where holding small wooden swards, shields, bow and arrows, and fake spears as they approached him blocking his path. The taller, slightly older looking girl stepped out of the group to Fang, “Mr. Bloodreaper-“

 

“Look kids, I don’t have any lunch money for you to take-” He said in a light sarcastic tone.

 

“It’s not that, can we barrow Mortem? We are playing pray and hunter, and we want to practice are skill on your familiar since he’s sturdier than our pets. We won’t really hurt him.”

 

Fang raised and eye brow, and glanced at his familiar who just looked back at him with his usual expression. He than smiled and looked back at the kids, “I know you won’t. Cause if you do, Mortem would not hesitate to eat you. Can’t remember the last time he had kids before. I guess that’s fine, he needs a good run anyway. Just don’t overdo it.”

 

“Thank you Bloodreaper.” They pet Mortem after Fang gave a jester to his wolf to go with them.

 

But before they walked away Fang spoke up again, “Hey got a quick question before you guys start terrorizing the town.”

 

The girl looked back at him, then the other kids who all just shrugged a bit hastily. “Okay what’s your question?”

 

“Why don’t you allow Montag to play with you guys?”

 

The girl looked around before motioning Fang to come closer. Fang bends down and the girl darts her eyes to double check before whispering, “He’s a soft bone. Whenever we play to ruff and accidentally make him cry, he tattletales on us and gets our parents in trouble with his mom. Morga gets made at how we play, but it’s not our fault he’s a milk drinker. He seems to think because his moms the leader, that he should win all the time and it’s not fun.” The girl took a step back. “Swear you won’t tell!”

Fang raised his right hand, and with his left made a cross motion on the location of his heart. “I’ll take it to the grave. Thank you for your time. Have fun.” He watched as the pack of kids ran off, knowing he had more inside of Montag behavior, and his mother. “That’s interesting. Surprised she hasn’t gotten over that overly protective instincts with the little goblin.” He continued forward.


	3. Chapter 3

Fang finally met back with Morga at the great hall where there was a separate room exclusively for battle related meetings, which took place every day. He approached her as she was looking at the map on the table aware of his presents even as he stepped in quietly. 

 

He cleared his throat, “Morga we lack smiting supplies. Everything else is fine. But I suggest we take over the mountain mining town.”

 

“In Riffall?” She looked at the map to where the two was located and had this thoughtful look on her face. She always though of taking the village over, but due to the high snow over the last two years, made the idea of going there a rather labor inducing one. She completely forgotten about the town since she considered it and easy victory if they ever got there. “Suppose we can. This winter has been in our favor since there hasn’t been much snow fall up the mountains.”

 

“Would you like me to rally a small mass of young new-bs? Give them a taste for blood.”

 

“I’ll take my group and my husband. I have a special job I want you to do.”

 

“I honestly forgotten your husband Luzt, existed.” Fang said with a bit of a bitter taste in his mouth.

 

“Why must you hate on my husband?”

 

“He hasn’t given me any reasons to like him. He gluttons over food, beer, and ale, I can’t stand lazy slugs. He’s in it for the meat. Surprised he hasn’t gotten fat, a pure blessing or dumb luck.”

 

“And you’re in it for the blood. A thing that runs in both of our family’s, only your family came from tyrants that lived in luxury.” 

 

“Maybe true, but I never gotten the golden throne, and a blood bath from my line. But I have to change topics, what do you want me to do?”

 

Morga took a deep breath, gripping her spear tightly before softening her grip. “After Monty’s birthday is over, I want you to help me in training him most of the time. I have loosened my grips around my territories unintentionally. I need to travel on and off to strengthen my territory from intruders that have been slithering like snakes back into their old home.”

 

Fang raised his eye brow, his expression was that of comply uninterested, with a hint of insult in his eyes. “You want me to play babysitter to the little goblin?”

 

“Trainer, not babysitter. You are my right hand in the battlefield and who else could teach my child skills to survive besides me?”

 

“Your husband, his father would be a good place to go.”

 

“As much as I love him, I do agree he isn't the entirely the best, but he gets the job done when needed. I want to ensure Monty has the best chance of survival when he grows up, and leaves on his own.”

 

“Still think your just making me a glorified babysitter at this point, but if it will stop him from crying over simply falling over, I’ll do it. However, I’ll train him like another man, or women, so I’m not going to treat him any different, your son or not.”

 

“Fine, just don’t kill him.”

 

“If he’s your son than he wouldn’t, or at lest he shouldn’t.” They both ear the door to the room, and looked to see who it was, and it was no one other than Monty, who was looking rather upset. Fang looked at Morga, “Speak of the devil…”

 

Morga ignored him focusing on her son. “Monty what has happen this time?”

 

Monty walked over to his mother, hugging her, with little tears forming his eyes Without his knowledge Fang was in the back ground pretending to play a violin. Monty spoke softly, a hurt tone in his voice. “The other kids won’t let me play pray and hunters again.”

 

“What a fuckshit shame.” Fang muttered before quickly biting his tongue after seeing Morga glaring slightly pointing her spear at him. 

 

“Why won’t the others let me join?” Monty asked, still sadden.

 

“Don’t worry, about them, I’ll take care of it.”

 

“Or you can just not and let him get use to the idea of no one liking him.” Fang added.

 

She took her son out of the room so Fang won’t comment on the issue. “Monty, I’m working at the moment, go be with your father. He’s going to be fishing soon, you can help with that.”

 

Monty pouts, and turns away leaving them. Fang stands next to her seeing that they were done talking. “You do realize he’s over dramatizing this? And since he’s going to be mainly training and not so much games, I say you shouldn’t bother with the parents.”

 

Morga looked at him with suspicions, watching as Fang grabbed a piece of bread off the table. “How do you know I was going to do that?”

 

“A little birdy told me. I do know what happens around here as much as you do. Everyone’s secrets, affairs. Whatever information I can use it as leverage if I needed something, or they cross me somehow. But who am I to give away my secrets? Besides, we have bigger problems. The fact that your kid isn’t getting invited to play games or sleepovers isn’t helping your village. And we all know that. But do what you want.” He walks out without saying anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

Monty got up early the morning of his birthday. He always loved the attention he would get on his birthday that being, gifts, and the food. The whole day centered around him. He got dressed and bolted outside to find his mother. She would walk the terrain of her clan’s territory every morning and night. 

 

He struggled a bit, walking on the snow she disturbed on her walk. He was waist deep in the snow as he grew a bit tired, but notices she wasn’t that far do to new tracks which gave him the extra encouragement to move faster. He finally saw his mother, who was standing on a tall hill.

 

She was looking down at the snow-covered woods. She heard snow being disturbed, and she looked down next to her right side and sees her son looking up at her, looking a bit-tired due to the snow he just went through. She was expecting him, and looked unamused as she releases a light sigh before speaking, “Out of all the days of the year, this is the only day you get up before the sun crosses the mountains.”

 

“We are going to have a big birthday dinner for me, right? Bigger than last one, right?”

 

“Depends on if the morning hunting group finds enough elk, and boars. Are they even up?”

 

“No, should I?” Monty asked.

 

She looks up to the raising sun before looking back at her son. “Get Fang up, he’ll get the others up. Then I need to speak to you after that.” She watches as Monty runs back to the village as she continues her walk.

 

Monty runs through the village, passes the main house, pass the small living houses around it, and up a little hill, that had a medium size house, not much bigger than the normal ones. 

 

Monty being inconsiderate, to excited, or both pounds on the door with his little fits. “WAKE UP IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!!!” He waited a bit, two seconds tops before pounding on the door again hearing Fangs familiar howling at the door. And that’s when Monty heard grumbling, things being moved and thrown around, a voice telling Mortem to be quiet. The footsteps came close to the door.

 

The wooden door swung open, and Fang who was still in his casual/underclothing he wore when he didn’t need to go outside. His hair wasn’t in his usually neatly pulled back look, instead it was a bit messy, or more casual. He looked down at Monty pissed, “Better have a damn good reason to almost walking the whole village. And your birthday isn’t one of them.” He sneered.

 

Monty smiled as if he has won something, “Mam told me to wake you, so, you and the others can start on the morning hunt.”

 

He grumbles, lowering his shoulder being grumpy and a bit of dramatic tone in his voice, “Why can’t she do it, she the leader, and your mother. Ugh, I was doing something important, like planning the raid, finding western and southern bases are located. And I have to start a new map thanks to you causing me to tip my ink well all over the map!” He sighed and lightly pulled back his hair. “I’ll be out, let me get dressed.” He shut the door not even offering Monty to come in. After a good five minutes Fang opens the door, wearing his proper winter clothing, and cape with his signature steel wolf head shoulder pad, and his silver hair slicked back properly. He opened his door more so Mortem could go out as well, and he made his way down the steps to the housing center he called it, with Monty walking beside Mortem as he pets Fangs familiar along the way. 

The three of them stood at the center of the circle as Fang watched the morning sun rise high before giving Mortem a signal to howl. They waited a bit before seeing all the doors to the houses open, and a small group of man and woman, dressed looking tired an annoyed. 

 

One bearded stocky looking man walked over to Fang looking like he was dealing with a hang over, “Why this early? You gave the hunting howl this early in the morning.”

 

“You can blame the goblin for that. Now I’ll keep my vocabulary brief and light for you and tell you this. Don’t know why your wife is still supplying your demanded of ale when you took the largest sum last night. So maybe it’s karma you’re out here after vomiting last night’s dinner at three in the morning. Now, if your done being a piss poor suit of a man, I suggest we get this over with, so we can go home and do whatever!” Fang snapped, his temper flaring up a bit. He looked down at Monty, “Happy?” Monty nod and turned running back to where his mother was. 

 

Monty found his mother on the hill again, sitting down, looking calm as she looked over the horizon. He walks over and sat next to her. Morga looked at him finally, after a couple of moments of silent. “Fang and I have agreed to train you to be able to defend yourself. You’ll start tomorrow.” She got up headed down the hill heading back to the village motioning Monty to follow she continued, “Everyone in this clan has to learn to survive, and that includes you. It run in our blood, but knowing how to survive is passed down from the ones who live through the worst. It’s taught from the stories of our people. I won’t be around forever to protect you, so that’s why I want you to learn now than later.”

 

Monty stayed quit, not quit liking the idea of physical training, or any kind of training for that manner when all the other kids have at lest another year of worry free. But to complaint won’t get him out of it. His only reply was a short nod. He never noticed that they where already in the village.

 

Morga sharpened her spear, “Good. Now, enjoy your birthday. That’s all I wanted to tell you. I’ll join the hunting party.” She walked off leaving Monty by himself. 

 

Monty walked over to Mortem, who was sleeping at the entry way to the great hall. “Why do I have to train when other kids my age get to play another year without training?” He sat down petting Mortem. “This is turning to be the worst birthday.” Mortem opened his eyes and looked over at Monty and just yawned before sitting up ears perked. “I wish I had a dog or two.” He continued to scratch Mortem back and the wolf licked his mussel with satisfaction, his ears lowered. After Monty stopped, Mortem gave him a quick thank you lick on the cheek before running to the entry way of the village with Monty doing his best to ketchup. Up the two stacked barrels next to the tall wall of the village he climbed, standing on his tippy toes while Mortem was sitting down, looking threw a medium size gap in the wall next to Monty. Both knew what was going on. The hunting party was gathering, all on horseback, bows, arrows, spears, and a wagon to put the kill in to take back. He watched as his mother stood out in front of the hunters in line, facing her. Monty jumped down, and scrambled to a ladder that was resting on a nearby house that just got its roof redone. He watched with great interest as he could see familiar faces, going out of there way to get his meat for his birthday dinner. However, what really caught his eye was Fang, who got off his horse as a stranger walked up to him with a letter, with something red on the front he never seen before. He watched as his mother shifted her sights on Fang, out of irritation for the interruption, or to see whatever he was opening was important. 

 

“There a problem that has your own men coming from long distances to give you?” Morga asked as she directed her horse to stand next to her second in command. Snow falling on everyone’s shoulders as they waited for her signal to go, being delayed by some paper.

 

Fang stood silent, skimming through the words that where written on the wax sealed letter. And by the end of it, he only had a light smile, with a bit of a chuckle, as he put it away in his caught pocket. “My men at sea are having issues with pirates. Can’t do anything without me having to get involved personally.” He got on his horse again. “Just my affairs that don’t effect you in anyway. Now I got a map to redo, and now a letter to write, so I say we get this over with.”

 

Morga nodded before getting the leading start, signaling the team to follow. Snow kicked up beneath all the horse feet as they ran down the hill, and into the woods. 

 

Monty used the snow to slid off the roof, and into a pile of hay running to the main hall to see what his father was up to until the hunt was over.


	5. Chapter 5

Monty was bored, he was still waiting for the hunters to come back. He was getting hungry and so was Mortem. Both of them where walking around the front of the village, where the hunters where before they left. He wondered if they where fighting a huge bear, or hunting a great deer, and if the deer was huge, maybe he could keep the horns. To occupy his time, he played fetch with Mortem using a bone that was laying around the dinning hall. Mortem stopped playing, and had his ears, and eyes focused on the woods. It wasn’t long before Mortem ran off, leaving Monty by himself, and that’s when he heard horses, men and women cheering, weapon clashing together in almost like a chime kind of way. 

 

He ran down to meet the others, not fully aware that they where closer than he thought. He stopped to catch his breath, bending his knees a bit, looking down not paying attention to the increased sounds of horses galloping in the snow. After he felt he had gotten some of his energy he looked up to see full pack of hunters, a few feet away from him, all going full speed. One particle hunter wasn’t paying attention, and was heading right towards Monty. 

 

Monty was frozen, he didn’t now how to act and his fear took over him, making him a solid statue. Luckily, a black haze of fur, leaped in front of Monty in aggressive position, hackles up, growling, causing the horse to stop dead in its track sending their rider off of his saddle, and into the snow three inches away from Monty, and Mortem. 

 

The rider now faced planted in the snow, cussed and swearing a he gathers himself up, wiping the snow off. As the man got to his feet his face was bright red with anger, and you could see veins sticking up. “YOU BRAT! WHY DID YOU COME RUNNING TO A PACK OF HUNTER ON HORSE BACK?!” He pointed at Monty furiously, causing Mortem to snap at him, and leap at them man pinning him down about to bite the man face off. 

 

“Mortem that’s enough!” A familiar voice shouted. 

 

Monty looked to see his mother and Fang both heading over to see what has happened. He ran over to his mothers’ horse, and Morga picked him up, setting him in front glaring at the man who dared to yell at her child. Mortem, got off the man and headed over to Fang.

 

“Why weren’t you looking where you where ridding. And what gave you the thought that you can yell at my child like that?” Morga asked, her voice holding back anger as she held her son steady on her horse. She waited for an answer before making a disused sound and looking over at Mortem. “Lest someone pays attention. I’ll make sure you get one of the fattest meats tonight.” She continued on leaving the embarrass man to himself. 

 

Later that night, all the tribe members where in side the great hall, where they had a huge meal in the dinning room. There was playful yelling, music, food being flung. Monty sitting next to his mother as he was grinning ear to ear, with the attention he was getting. He was enjoying his honey nut cake, with Mortem laying hunter his feet to clean up the spills, and whatever Monty decided to share on top of that. 

 

Fang walked in finally, with a bottle of red wine that had never been open, and took his set next to Monty. “So, how’s it feel to be a year older?” He watched as Monty was stuffing his face not really caring to answer.” Fang rolled his eyes and opened the wine bottle which caused a loud popping sound, which drew all eyes on him. It became quit, and the tribe all eye balled the red liquid being poured into a cup.

 

One tribe member spoke up, “Is that wine or blood?”

 

“Bet you it’s blood knowing his family background.” The other member said next to them.

 

Fang decided to amuse them, might as well play along if they are going to start bring up old gossip. “Why yes, it is. Blood and wine mixed together. Just how I like it.” He spins the wine a bit before taking a sip. “Ah blood of a poor rich man. What an oxymoron.”

 

Monty looked highly interested and practically was standing on his chair, both hands on Fangs shoulder as he tried to get a better look at his drink. “Can I have some?” He bounced a bit almost spilling the wine from the cup Fang was holding.

 

“Monty sit down, you can’t have that.” His father said. But it fell on deaf ears as Monty was till pestering Fang, while he was drinking.

 

It wasn’t until Morga spoke up, “Monty sit. You can’t have that kind of stuff yet.”

 

Monty stopped and slumped back into his chair, but than Fang held the cup in front of his face. “You can try, juts a sip though. Only because it’s your birthday.”

 

Monty light squeal with glee as if he was going on a rebel’s adventure. He took a sip, smacking his lips a bit. “It tastes good. Hey mam I just drinked blood!” He shouted like he accomplished hiking a great mountain. 

 

Most of the tribe members where holding a small laugh before someone started the music up again.

 

Mortem went over to Morga ask if waiting for something. She looked at the black wolf and grabbed one of the bore legs and threw it to Fangs wolf, “Your reward. Go beg somewhere else.” Mortem sat down next to Monty again, getting ear scratches, and head rubs from the birthday boy. 

 

The party lasted for hours, and the tribe have gone threw two barrels of ale and beer, if the tribe wasn’t passed out on the table, it was the ground they laid on, still holding their food, and drinks. Even Monty fell victim to sleep seeing as he had eaten two pretty big pieces of the cake. Morga still was awake, having developed a high tolerance to the effects of alcohol, and Fang who knew his limit, and since he had to train the goblin tomorrow, he didn’t want to have a headache before training even started. 

 

She got up and scooped up her son in her arms, keeping quiet as she left the room to put her son to bed. She came back, sitting in her usual spot, hands firmly on the arm chair, her head lowered a bit, taking a deep sigh her eyes closed, “Thinking about tomorrow?”

 

Fang was in the buzzed faze where he was completely calm. He had one hand placed on his cheek, other lazily resting on his arm chair. The feeling of his tough tingling, and the bitter sweet taste of the wine still lingered in his mouth. He snapped out of his thoughts and looked at her, not moving. “Yes…you?”

 

“A bit, I plan to let him sleep in though. Last thing he need is to pass out on his first day of training. I’ll have him do light exercises in the morning. I’m not going to push him to far yet.”

 

“I can’t see you being that harsh on him to begin with. Not that I blame you…he’s the only child you have considering-“, he stopped himself and redirected back the conversation, “I don’t plan to much for him to do. I’ll just ask him what you did and maybe see if he can practice a few swings with the new wooden sword he has now.” He got up from his chair. “Always fun parties, loud and obnoxious, dealing with the drunks, slurring, and bugging you. But food was great. Now I’ll take my leave. Map should be ready later tomorrow night at the most, depending on how training goes.” He left the room.

 

It was past day break, and almost ten when Morga decided to get up Monty, seeing it was way passed the time he usually wakes up. He had a quick breakfast, still slow, not yet fully awake, when his mother took him to the weapon room. 

 

“Monty I need you to understand and respect each weapon you come in contact with, be it the one you hold or your enemies…” She glanced down at her son who was sat on a chair falling asleep. She let go of a soft sigh, “Perhaps some morning exercise will do. Come my son.” She held his hand to help lead him outside, and a little bit outside the village. “I have made you a track you can follow in the snow. I’ll be here when you make full circle. I’m timing you so be as fast as you can. It’s a simple task I know you can do.” Lest she was holding on to some hope for her child. She watches as Monty speed walk down the path and out of sight. And hope quickly began to flee as she realized what should be a good three-minute run, as she decided to spare Monty any harsh exercises after his birthday, had become a fifteen minute one. She was getting a mix of impatient, and concern that her son might have gone off the beaten path she made. She called over Mortem, and both she and the wolf speed walked there way down the hill, following Monty’s bath. 

 

It didn’t take long to find him, laying under a tree catching up on what he lost in sleep. He was ever so rudely woken from by Mortem, who tugged at his clothing on his shoulder, making him fall in the snow. He got up, patting the snow away, and looked slightly guiltily at his mother, who looked disapprovingly. 

 

“Monty…even a simple task such as that, and yet you still found a way to fail. Go sharpen the weapons in the weapon room. Don’t cut yourself.” She walked away giving him the cold shoulder, that made the fresh fall of snow, feel warmer. On the bright side, he could still take a nap, if he was careful. 

 

About an hour into sharpening the weapons, he grew impatient in how long it was taking, with the little wet stone his mother gave him as punishment for not gunning in the cold snow. And after his birthday party of all times, when he could still sleep off the extra food, he intake. The though of it made his blood boil, and he was over sharpening to the point where the tip of what of his mother’s extra spear, chipped off, and he held his breath. His anger quickly ran cold, as he thought of what she would do, or say to see her extra spears where unfit to fight with.

 

‘Maybe she wouldn’t noticed, if I hid it in the back.’ He nodded proudly at himself, thinking how clever he was. ‘Plus- ‘, he continued with his thought, ‘who’s to say it wasn’t already chipped when he got to it? A victim of bad timing he could say.’ He carefully tried to slid her spear behind other weapons, being maces, axes, and bows, but being short, he leans to far and ends up crashing the weapon stand on the ground, as he luckily jumped away in time before getting cut. ‘Well that’s nothing I can’t definitely say was an accident.’ He tried his best to pick up the wooden stand but due to the weapons on top of the fallen stand made it impossible. His now eight-year-old body couldn’t lift those heavy weapons, unless one at a time, up even that was going to be challenging. He jumped ten feet almost as he heard the door open and flew behind a near by barrel and crotch down, peaking to see who it was. 

 

Fang took a step in, see the mess and looked around the room, “Goblin, I know you’re in here. Come out now and I won’t tell your mom you caused a weapon stand to fall…” He waited a few, then heard feet dragging out from behind the barrel to see Monty, trying to pass up as an innocent man. “So, you can’t do a simple run, and now you can’t even sharpen weapons without causing damage…. you alright though? No cuts or anything?” He saw Monty nod. “We’ll that’s good.” He walked over and put the stand back into place. “I’m only helping you this one time with this, but if you make it fall again, you’ll have to deal with it on your own.”

 

“Did mom send you?” Monty ask, not saying a thank you.

 

“That she did, she’s decided to do a raid, up in the mountains. So, I’m taking over the training a bit. And I do have something for you to do.” He headed out the door, then looked over his shoulder, “Let’s go, unless you want to explain to your mom about the broken off spear of hers?”

 

Monty looked and saw that the spear that had a chip end, was now broken in haft, and he hurried along to Fang looking nervous. “Think she’ll be mad?”

 

“Mad, no she’ll be more than mad. But we can worry about that when she finds out. Now this training-.” He continued as they walked away from the weapon storage room, “Involves sneak, and cunning. No real running involved.” They both stopped at Morga falcon house. “Unless you get caught.”

 

Monty, looked at the scattered remains of it’s prays of his mother’s deadly trained falcon. He turned to look at Fang. “Why?”

 

Fang huffed a small bit, out of irritation, “That flying chicken has irritated me for the last time, and I’m of need to get a new ink feather since mine is over used. And what better to have a feather from a bird I hate. Took to many of my kills, plus food I pack for fighting and hunts. I know it’s rather petty, but I want to wave its own feather in it’s face out of spite. Now your mom fed them not that long ago, so it should be sleeping.”

 

“No way, you’re crazy.” 

 

“I’ll tell your mom that you broke her spear. I’ll take the blame if you do me this one favor.” He held out his hand to Monty, “Do we have a deal?” 

 

Monty hesitates, but remembers how mad her mom could get if she found out he broke her extra spear, so he shook Fangs hand. “Deal.”

 

“Then it’s a bargain. Now like I said, it should be asleep. I just need one large feather and that’s it, preferably from one of its wings. It’ll grow back.” 

 

Monty looked at the house, he was the perfect size to get in there. He lightly tipped toed his way to it, looking back to see Fang behind a rock giving him a thumbs up. Didn’t help with his confidence but he went into the bird house ever so slowly. 

 

Now the bird house was warm, musky, and he saw the fearless looking bird sleeping, threw the peak of sunlight scattered around from holes. The closer he got to the bird the slower his breathing became, and soon he was within the reach of the wing feathers. He couldn’t turn back now, he was so close and plus he made a deal, couldn’t necessary get out of it. He, very slowly reached his end and touched one of the long feathers, holding his breath. He had to be quick, facing his body to the exit of the bird house, he yanked the feather off, but wasn’t prepared to how face the falcon would respond. 

 

The falcon eye open with a blasé of fiery in its eyes, as hit wings flapped opened, wind from it caused Monty to fall, and the fallen feathers and dust dance up into the room. It screech was load and it hunched over at Monty, looking down at him from it’s perch. Monty scrambled up to his feet, and ran out leaving a trail of small feathers after him, and the angry falcon flying after him.

 

Fang was laughing, until he realized Monty was heading his way and got up and started to run away himself. “SHIT!” 

 

Monty shouted behind him, “I got the feather what now?”

 

“Survive at this point. Go away he’s after you!!” Fang shouted back trying to get away from the boy like the plague.

 

“It was your idea!”

 

“I made the idea; doesn’t mean I want to be apart of the execution of it.” Fang turned and dived in the trunk of a big fallen try, crouching. He watched Monty almost run past before grabbing him. They both sat in silences, and held their breath as they saw the shadow of Morga falcon fly a foot away from the tree. Three minutes went by, but it felt like eternity for both of them. “That is one hell of a bird.” Fang whispered. He stuck his head out and checked to see if the costs were clear before getting out. “So, if your mom asked. We studied animal tracking. Did you get the feather?” Monty showed it to him, still in perfect condition considering they both where running like bats out of hell. “Good, not I’ll stick to my deal.” And with that he took it out of Monty’s hand.

 

They started to walk back to the village, but unforchenitly came to find Morga didn’t leave yet. She was standing in front of the entry way of the village, spear in hand, her raid group ready, and her falcon on her right shoulder, both not looking pleased at Fang, or Monty.

 

Her gaze fell over to Fang the most, but he was prepared, and didn’t even flinched when she spoke, “Why was Monty in my falcons house, plucking one of his flight feathers?” She asked with cold calmness. 

 

“Simple, I was teaching him to sneak, and how to get out of danger.” Fang answered, not skipping a beat, not even stuttering. Just confidence in his eyes because it was pretty much the truth not adding the part about hating the bird, or how he needed a new feather pen. 

 

“I’ll buy it…now what about the weapon storage unit? Why is one of my spears broken?” She asked, her grip tightening on her spear.

 

“My fault, I was getting your little goblin to do his training I planed for him, but he said you told him to sharpen the weapons. Being sadly short, he couldn’t reach some weapons to sharpen, so, I tried to help and ended up knocking the weapon rack. He’s fine, the only thing that broke was your extra spear. It was my fault internally.”

 

“Fang I don’t know you as being clumsy, you sure that’s the truth?”

 

“It is, wine was a bit too much last night than I thought, didn’t realized how slow my motor-skill where that early in the morning.” 

 

Morga didn’t ask anything more, and satisfy with the answers. “I’m leaving, you’re in charge of the village tell I’m gone. Make sure no one lights the place on fire.” She got on her horse and lead her small army away leaving both of them. 

 

Fang looked and saw the falcon glaring at them, and held up the prized feather as a last ‘screw you’ to the bird, as he and Monty both decided that it was enough training for that day.


	6. Chapter 6

Fang and Monty where taking the walk that Morga would usually take to make sure everything was secure. It was a good walk for Monty for him to learn how to keep going in snow and not get tired out. Fang would pull him out of a hole, or really deep snow.  
“Know how to shoot a bow and arrows?” Fang ask as he held his hands up pulling him out of deep snow.  
Monty came out of the snow, covered in it and shake his head. “Nope…” He got down and brushed the snow off. 

 

“Well than that’s what we’ll do. With a kid one for you, the bow string would be extremally hard for you to pull back.” Fang stopped, satisfied with the looks of the territory. “Let’s get you warmed up beforehand. I don’t want your mother to fuss over you due to a simple cold.” He picked him up and held him under his arm so it wouldn’t take long to get up to the village.

 

“I miss going over your shoulder. It felt cool being tall.” Monty pouted.

 

“Well I value my shoulders; I’m not giving you anymore shoulder rides. To old for it. Plus I think your mother would disapprove.”

 

“But you do things that ma disapproves all of the time.”

 

Fang chuckled, “Bold of you to assume I do it all the time. It depends on the situation, and we know each other for years, so I can slightly get away with it more. But when it come to battling, we are both at the same page. Warriors all need to be in order to get the job done as fluently smooth as posable.”

 

“What’s the hardest part of you and my mamas’ job?”

 

“Well…nothing really, I think the hardest part is writing letters to relatives about a son or daughter passing away in battle. I’ve taken the burden of that. Your mother…she is softer than most people think. I much rather have a grieving mother yelling at me about how her baby boy died, and how it was my and Morga fault. It’s pretty grim, but your mother always wants all her warriors to come home to there families in one piece. But when you go to battle, there’s things that just happen…” Fang stayed silent for a while, in deep thought. 

 

Monty didn’t let the silent pass to long though, “Does it get easier?” 

 

“No, but it became especially hard for your mother. It bothered her before, but after she gave birth to you, she would hate it more when a young clan member passed, and knowing she would have to write mainly to the mother. One of the explanations of why she’s overly protective of you.” They came up to the doorway to the village and Fang put him down. As the door opened for them Fang glanced down at Monty, “Go on get warm, I need to right a few letters.” He walked in after Monty bolted for the great hall. 

 

Fang got to his home and had a few moments to relax before deciding to get to the letter regarding the pirates his own clan was talking about. He got up and got to his desk rereading the letter that he was sent. “Can’t they do anything on their own?” He grumbled and sigh, came to the conclusion that he would allow more defending ships to travel with his training ones, and if things still haven’t subsided that he would visit after the snow softens if not sooner. He’s been gone from his own clan, and the last thing he needed was a revolt against him. But he was more than capable to run things even if the complains where in letters. However, he had to make an appearance and the sooner the better. It had been over three months, but his clan was more territory hungry where he lived, and where more brutal. He melted some wax on the ends of the papers and pressed the wax seal of his family coat of arms. And walked out of the house to find his clan member that deals with his letters. 

 

Monty was outside eating with Mortem who was really his only friend at this point and watched Fang walking out of his house from the great hall. He saw the letter with the wax seal and bolted out to get a better look at them. “I WANTA SEE!” He shouted, before grabbing Fangs arm.

 

Fang looked down at him, lifting his arm, and Monty who still hanged on to it passing the letters to his free hand. “Goblin now is not the time. I’ve got business.” He shook him off and continued to the stables where his courier was waiting. 

 

Monty followed jumping at every chance he got to try to get the letters, but Fang ignored him and kept pressing on, holding it above his head, “No fair!”

 

Fang was about to snap but maintained his cool as he meets his courier. “Letters to the main ship Ebony, and to my second in command.” He passed them off quickly holding Monty down with his hand on top of his head. The courier nodded, placing to two letters in his jacket, before getting on his horse and riding off. Fang took a deep breath to cool his temper, which was hard, and glared at Monty, “You need to learn some manners, and be less of a brat. Why did you want to take my letters? Nothing fun was written in.”

 

Monty huffed, mad himself and was a red as a tomato, “I wanted to see the weird red circles! I never got to see them!” He stomped on the ground.

 

Fang straighten up a bit. “The wax seal?”

 

“Yeah whatever that is.” Monty said looking away.

 

He sighed but figured he can use this as a bribing tool, “Goblin, I can show you later, you still have training to do. Tell you what, if you make a bulls eye I can show you how to do a wax seal, and if you try, and do the training I ask of you, than I’ll get you your own set when I leave to see my clan.”

 

Monty perked up, “Really. Let’s go than! Let’s shoot some arrows.” Monty ran up ahead and stopped looking at Fang, “WELL YOU COMING?!” 

 

“Why does he need to be so loud?” Fang mumbled, before following him, “I’m coming, don’t need to scream like a banshee.”

 

They came to the archery practice area of the village, and Fang went into the weapon housing and came back with two bows, and different size arrows. He gave the smaller set to Monty, helped him put the should strap for him, back arrow quiver, and leather arm guard. He helped his stance, a few feet away from the target. 

 

“So, concentrate on the middle mark, don’t close your eyes, or have your hand follow the arrow after you released it. Pull as much back was you can. Watch how I do it first.” Fang lift his bow and loaded it with an arrow, and pulled back the string to eye level, taking a second to check the wind, before releasing the arrow right into the center on the target. He lowered his bow and looked at Monty, “Your turn.” 

 

Monty looked at the arrow, the feathers being practically inside the hay. Monty followed how Fang was posed, and how he drew the bow. But he missed the target completely. “What happened?”

 

“Do it again, but don’t fire the arrow….” He watched as Monty aimed at the practice hay and crouched next to him. “Ok, not horrible, however you’re pointing your elbow up in the air, it needs to be lower than that and straight.” He lowered Monty elbow, “Pull it as far as you can make sure your pulling it up to your eye. You also followed the arrow after releasing. Hard not to do, and even a professional archer would sometime do it.” He put a hand on Monty arm, “Let go of the arrow and I’ll make sure you don’t follow it.”

 

Monty let go almost following the arrow if it wasn’t for Fang keeping hold of his arm. They both watched as it landed right in the center making it a bullseye. “Wow…” Monty said as he lowered his bow slowly, then a wave of exactment came over him as he began to hop around, throwing his hands up in the air completely proud of himself. “I did it! I’m the best!” He danced around almost falling over at some points. “I get my own wax stamp thingy.”

 

Fang stood up, “Uhm no, you don’t. And you don’t get to see one either. I had to help you, and this is not the end of the week so I don’t know if I’m getting you one yet unless you don’t piss me off and do your training.”

 

“I don’t remember the deal of not pissing you off.”

 

“Well that was before I remember your horrible behavior with the letters. I don’t let things like that slide. Now try again, this time by yourself.” He watches Monty aim again, he saw the same mistakes he did before, and lightly sighed. 

 

Monty fired the arrow again, and hits the hay, but didn’t hit the center. He looked up at Fang, “Did I do the same thing again?”

 

“Yes, you did. Try again, but be aware of your elbow and following the arrow.” He waited patiently. 

 

Monty held a focus expression on his face, and he kept in mind about his elbow and stiffen his arm when he let go of the arrow. He made the bullseye by himself this time and he was very much proud of it, doing a walk with his nose up a bit and strong pace. “See that? I did that.”

 

“One arrow, and I had to remind you about your weakness. Try again.”

 

After an hour of practice Monty was getting slightly tired, and only gotten a few bullseyes compared to how many he fired. “Can we stop now? When’s mam coming back…” 

 

Fang lowered his bow after firing one last arrow at the target. “Not too long, a day or two. The town up in the mountains is small, so shouldn’t be more than a weak at most. And yes, you may, it’s close to diner anyway…” He put the equipment away. “Since both your parents are away, I want you to stay with your moms’ friend Borghild. I’m quite busy and I need silent and concentration, not distractions. And please don’t be irritating. She’s expecting very soon. So, spare her your over dramatic fits about not getting your favorite food. And finish drinking your milk.” 

 

They both walked to Borghild house and knocked on the door, and a huge, built giant of a man answered the door glaring down at them.

 

Fang cleared his throat, “Ivar nice to see you…I got Morga son for you guys to wat ch for just one night. I’m doing some stuff for Morga. Your wife is fine with it. If he gives you any grief let me know so I can correct that behavior.” He waited for a response but Ivar just moved enough to let Monty in, “…Great I’ll get him int the morning.” Fang turned around and left.

 

Monty looked around this new environment. He use to see Borghild a lot but she’s been in the house for a month and hasn’t been around the training area like she use to before she was pregnant. He sniffed around and saw an iron pot over the fire place that was in the middle of the room. Ivar walked to the pot and handed Monty a boil, and prepared an extra one, and left the room with Monty following behind him. 

 

Ivan turn to a blocked sighed of the room with curtains and walked in. Monty heisted to follow, but tipped-toed in. It was there bedroom and Borghild was sitting sharpening her weapon taking the hole bed, being surrounded in furs and soft sheets. Monty stepped closer to them, but maintained a distance.

 

She looked up and smiled, “Montag so good to see you. Sorry we where not at your birthday dinner. I heard you had fun.”

 

Monty perked up, and walked to her and sat on the chair next to the bed. “Yeah, I got a lot of cool stuff.”

 

“Bet you ate all the cake. Your mother and father away?” She asked.

 

“Yeah, a raid again I guess. I’ve been training with Uncle Fang.”

 

“So that’s the gossip going around the village. Everyone is surprised Fang agreed to it considering he has not patients, and doesn’t really like kids. But I tell you what, he has a soft spot, he just doesn’t show it. I bet your doing great in training being that you are your mother’s son.”

 

Monty smiled a bit guilty, “Yeah…use runs in my blood. I’m a natural.” He looked at her tummy and freaked out at seeing movement. “When the baby due? Will it pop out or something?”

 

She laughed and put down her soup thanking her husband as he left the room. “Soon, maybe in a few days. A lot of people said I wouldn’t be able to have a child, watched parents with envy. But as always, I have proved them wrong. Anyway, Ivar had made a bed for our child when they grow older, but you can use it for tonight. Be a good way to see how well it is. I also have a late birthday present.” She pointed to a chest on the end of her bed that was on the floor. “It’s in there.”

 

Monty practically fell off the chair, luckily, he had finished his soup so nothing spilled. He went over to the chest opened it to find wooden goat carved figures, five all different sizes. “This is amazing. It’s like a family of goat! To bad they aren’t real.” He went back to the chair holding them and dump them on the edge of the bed in front of him and began to play. 

 

Borghild watched pleased and picked on of them up that Monty wasn’t holding, “Care if I join?”

 

Monty just looked at her and nodded, his mouth kind of opened in disbelieved. No one has ever asked if they could join in on what he was playing. It wasn’t something he was expecting to hear. Sure…” 

 

A couple of hours past and both Monty and Borghild where exchanging different stories about passed fights, memories of when Morga and Borghild where young, and different myths.

 

“Your mother would never let an enemy get away. If she could split the sea to get to an enemy boat she would.” Borghild laughed, “Had to save her more than once, your mother isn’t much of a defense when it come to battling. We were shield sisters. But while defending her, I wasn’t paying attention and ended up with three dull arrows in my back, and a slash on my sided. But didn’t stop me from defending her, doing my job for my best friend. But it didn’t put me into an early retirement.”

 

“I don’t hear many stories about my ma being young. Thought she was always old.” Monty said putting down his toys.

 

“And old soul, maybe but she was a kid like you. Not as mischievous but she would get into trouble. However, I can’t tell you, your mother wouldn’t be too thrilled about me telling you all the trouble she got into.” She gave Monty and sly wink. “Like how she accidently let the horse out. Took her days to get them all back. But you didn’t here that from me.”

 

Monty grinned and winked back, “Heard what?”

 

She laughed, “Clever that’s a good thing to have. Now it’s passed both of our bed time. I’m very tired.” She looked to the curtains, “Ivar show Montag to his bed please.”

 

Monty watched as Ivar walked n, his big beard was well kept, and had beads in it, wearing a plain shirt with animal furs covering his back, like a cape. He was quite intimidating looking. He walked to Ivar and followed him away from the bed room and saw the bed was placed a few feet away from the fire place that was out. He left Monty by himself as he went to be with his wife.


	7. Chapter 7

Monty woke up to a nice warm smell of breakfast being cooked. He slipped out of the bed, and walked over to Ivar and stood next to him, watching the huge man making another stew, but it contained potato, carrots, and beef. He watched we bubbling golden broth, and steam rise being one with the air. 

 

Ivar pored him a bowel of the heavenly scented soup. Then lefted to give a bowel to his wife. Monty started eating alone, before he heard Borghild calling for him, and he rushed to the bed room. He looked at her and Ivan who both where siting, Borghild still in bed, and Ivar on a chair next to the bed. 

 

She looked at him, as he was still standing by the doorway, “Morning Montag. Did you have a good sleep last night?”

 

Monty nodded, walked in, and sat on the opposite side of the bed on the other chair that was placed there, “Yes, it was nice.”

 

“I was worried that it wasn’t conferrable enough, Ivar you did a wonderful job as always.” She gave her husband a light pat on his hand and in returned he smiled lightly back before taking a sip of his soup. She returned her attention to Monty, “Anything plan today?”

 

Monty shrugged; mouth filled with soup to the point it was dipping down his chin. He swallowed, whipped his messy chain with his sleeves. “Training, nothing I would call fun, more like being bossed around.”

 

“We’ll even the most influential people have been bossed around. You’re being taught how to survive. One day, you’ll own the battlefield, and be the victor. Just be patience.” She watched as Monty scoffed, patience was not known in his vocabulary. “You know, one day you’ll thank them.” They both heard a knock at the door. “Ivar please see who it is.”

 

Ivar nodded, got up and headed to the front door, before long Fang walked in with Ivar.

 

Fang gave a genital smile at both of them, “Morning…I hope Montag was well behaved as expected.”

 

Borghild nodded, “Yes, the three of us had a good time.”

 

Monty rushed out of the room, than came back over to Fang, “Ivar and Borghild gave these to me.” He was nearly hopping on his tip-toes trying to show him all the craved wooden goats. 

 

Fang bend down to look at them, “Quite the detail. Need me to hold them so you don’t drop them?” 

 

Monty just handed all five to Fang without a second thought and looked up at Fang. “Can I stay here again tonight?”

 

“I’m not sure, you’ll have to ask Ivar and Borghild if it’s all right with them.”

 

“Oh, we would love to let Montag say another night.” Borghild replied, “You can keep the toy goats here, so that we can the little goat meeting.”

 

“Okay, if you say so.” Fang put the toys down carefully on a near by table. “Let’s go goblin, you’re going to learn how to handle some of the weapons we have.” He gave his last goodbyes to Ivar and Borghild, before taking Monty out to the training area.

 

A few of hours pasted and Fang was sitting on a stump. “You seriously can’t lift up an axe?” Fang looked down at the Monty who was struggling to get a small battle axe up from the ground. 

 

“I can!” Monty wheezed as he tried different methods and dragging it around like a mule. “Just, my muscles aren’t awake this morning…”

 

“Goblin you have no muscles on you. This is just sad.” He walked over and hunched down next to Monty. “Lift from the knees, or you’ll hurt your back…”

 

Monty just disregarded him and with all that was left of his stamina, he lifted the axe stupidly above his head. This being stupid since he almost dropped the axe on his head before falling on his back with a bug thud. “OUCH!!! I’M DIEING?”

 

Fang pitched his mid brow, and groaned. “This is what I have to putting up with today?” He got up and helped Monty back on his feet, “You are going to start doing some weights, and more proteins, get some meat on these thin leather arms of yours. I’m surprised you were able to hold it up that height. I’m impressed.”

 

Monty looked at him astonished, it was the first time Fang has complimented on him, “Really?”

 

Fang looked at him slightly puzzled, “Yeah…you haven’t lifted one before, and considered your about as light as a feather that’s something…Don’t let it get into your head, it’s just one accompaniment. Last thing you need is a big ego.” Fang looked at the positioning of the sun and realized it was almost lunched. He glanced over at Monty who was trying to lift the axe again, perhaps the complement drove him to attempt to impress Fang further, “That’s enough, I don’t want your back going out. Go take a break, play with Mortem, race each other after lunch. I need to check on a few things.” Fang let Monty take the lead as they both exited the training area, out into the busy part of the village, that has all the shops and food.

 

Everyone was busy, keeping to their jobs, children playing, chickens walking around, fresh meat being cooked. However there seem to be two tribe female doctors where going in and out of a house, with herbs and water.

 

Monty looked at the house and recognized the house, “Borghild must be having her baby.”

 

“That appears to be so. However, it’s not really a place for us. Private matter.” They both began to walk further down the village until one of the female doctors ran up to Fang, 

 

“Fang, Borghild want to speak with you.”

 

Fang stopped and looked at her, “What about?”

 

“She just told me to get you. Told me it was argent and that she needs to speak with you now.” The doctor’s tone was rather serious, and formative. There was nothing lightly taking in her eyes.

 

“Very well…Goblin go play, enjoy your time off.” He walked away following the women inside the house.

 

Fang entered the house, noticed that as he and the doctor come to the bed room, the furs, cloths, and other bed materials where all gone, leaving the bed naked with just the wood. 

 

The doctor goes up to Borghild, who was wearing old sleep wear looking unwell, and unconformable, trying to drink the medicine that doctors have given her. “He’s here…”

 

Borghild looked up, her hair in two lose ponytails that hung on her shoulders. She was holding on to her husband hand, holding her very pregnant tummy with her other. “Fang, I have a favor to ask of you…” 

 

Fang walked over, he knew that this was serious now, she didn’t look like she was doing well. “Borghild, what is it that you want me to do?” He spoke with a serious tone.

 

“I need you to write to Morga, my war sister, I want her to know I’m going to battle…and I may not make it…”

 

“Don’t speak of that. Many women have done this, including Morga and all survived. You were fine this morning, and last night.” Her husband said in an angry voice. 

 

“I apologies to have to put on a charade on you my love, but I haven’t been feeling well for about a week now. I thought it was a side effect of being pregnant, but I think it is something worst and I can only blame myself for being stubborn to not have told you. I’m sorry I’m making you worried.”

 

Fang spoke up, “I can’t write a long formal letter. Morga should be arriving later tonight, if not tomorrow. You’ll see her sooner than you think…however since they shouldn’t be too far, I’ll send a short one saying you’re in labor and give it to my familiar. It could possibly get her to arrive faster. Can you hang on tell than?”

 

“I’ve been shot in the back with three arrows while having a deep wound bleeding from the side, this is but a walk up a steep hill for me.” Borghild replied in a tried breath.

 

Fang put on a soft smile, “Than keep walking up the hill, and do as the doctors tell you this time.” He walked out, but careen up to his house to write the letter. As soon as he wrote it, he rapped it in leather, called Mortem knowing that he could track her down faster, and put it in his mouth to carry. “Take this to Morga, it’s urgent.”

 

Mortem looked up at his master and took off running out the village. 

 

Monty walked over to Fang, the look of stress was plastered all over his face, “Uncle Fang is Aunty Borghild okay?” Monty picked up that Fang wasn’t listening but in a deep thought, and began to pull on his sleeve, “Fang is Aunty Borghild okay.” He was moving his feet strangely, as the anxious feeling raised. 

 

Fang snapped out of his thought, and looked down, “I can’t tell you right now. But I’m going to be honest, she’s not looking good.” Without warning Monty bolted to Borghild house, “MONTAG WAIT!” Fang ran after him, luckily catching his arm before he made it inside the house. “You can’t be in there right now.”

 

Monty was fighting against Fang, scratching his armor wrist band, trying to pull away, burning tear feel down his cheek making his eye make up run, “I don’t care! Aunty Borghild!” He was digging the dirt from under his feet trying to get way sobbing. Reaching his free hand at the door trying to reach it. It was at this point Fang picked him up, and Monty lost it, kicking screaming, calling for Ivar or Borghild, doing his best to get Fang to let go. 

 

Morga arrived at the village gate, ditching her army and horse behind since she could run faster than it would take to ride. Mortem was at her side, and both hurried to the sound of Monty wailing. As they approached, they witness Fang trying to get Monty to relax, on his knees with her son, both hands on the boys’ shoulder trying to explain that he had to wait at least for his mother.

 

Morga walked over, Monty didn’t realize his mom arrived until she took her sons hand. Fang backed off, and the village was crowding around the commotion watching this special. Everyone was muddled of why Monty was having a break down, and why she arrived so early. 

 

Morga knelled to her son, “Monty, why are you making a scene?” She asked calmly. 

 

Monty, finally calmed down a little, though his face was a wreck with tears and snot, “Aunty Borghild isn’t doing well.”

 

“So, you think screaming and crying loudly outside her house when she’s in trouble helps her?” Monty inquired, still holding her sons’ hands. She watched as Monty shook his head looking down. “I’ll check on her. But I need you to stay with Fang. If she’s okay with you coming in than maybe I’ll let you. But you need to calm yourself. Worrying isn’t going to help with this situation.” She stood up, looked at the looky-loos of her tribe and glared at them which caused them to hastily go back to what they were doing. “Thank you Fang for informing me about this.” She walked inside the house.

 

As she walked in the doctors stopped and stared at her. Why was the leader of the tribe here, when she had left but a few days ago to take over a nearby village? She didn’t need to breath a word to them, they knew she wanted them out. And they hastily did so without so much as a protest. After the doctors left, Morga saunter to Borghild and Ivar bedroom. As she moved the currents of the doorway to the room, she looked at her friend, who was being consoled by her husband. 

 

Morga took her steps further into the room, tell she had both of there attention. She was still relaxed, even though she was surrounded by men and women on there tip-toes with this fragile situation. “Ivar, may I speak with your shield maiden alone. This won’t be long…” Ivar didn’t say anything, but Morga could tell he didn’t want to leave his wife side. As he walked out Morga took his set and looked at her friend. “Wasn’t planning to come back with everyone watching a spectacle of what my son made.”

 

Borghild chuckled, but it was soft and weak. “Though everyone would have been use to it. Painful to hear him scream like that. Sounded like someone just took his pet away.”

 

“He was screaming and crying because he wasn’t getting his way. I know every different screams and cries he does and why.” She exclaimed unfasted and a bit disappointed still with her sons’ actions.

Borghild sat up more, though you could feel the that her body was in pain when doing this, “He’s a good kid. Though I think he’s picking up on Fang dramatic traits.” She looked outside her window far left of the room, “I was so envious when you gave birth to him. I’ve all ways been envious of village mothers strolling around with there babies, lovingly. Children coming home, and hugging their parents at the door way. Oh, how I hated watching them. Ever since that day in battle, I was never successful with carrying a baby.” She looked at Morga, “People take lives leisure’s for granted, that includes bearing a child. Though the labor isn’t a luxury we find while raiding other villages. But that’s how battles and wars are, have to get through the blood and gore before you can bask in victory. You have always lived by that.”

Morga leaned her spear against the wall. “Borghild you all ways where warned against even risking to bear a child. Your battle injuries made it impossible for you to be able to carry without having internal damage.”

 

Borghild shook her head, “I was willing to take the risk, that’s how we are raised, backing down isn’t something we do, you know that better than anyone. I’ve helped you in battle, helped caring for Montag when you, Fang, and your husband was gone. I’ve seen him grow up, and though he is a spoiled child, no thanks to us. I saw him as a son when you were gone, and-” She stopped, “I just wanted to have a family…wanted to have my own son or daughter of my own blood.” She ground and hold her stomach in pain. “I’m not going to make it, and I don’t want my last hours or days on earth being pitted by the villagers, coming to visit me in my last moment. Why is it that when you die, or when your about to, it’s when everyone you know finally tells you how wonderful you are, and how much you mean to them…Don’t know why you wouldn’t try to say that once in a while instead on there love ones death bed…I have a favor to ask of you. And I know you’re not going to approve of this but.” She looked in the eyes of Morga, with plea, “I need you to help end my life.” Morga stood up,” Morga please, I was once a great shield sister, we fought by their side. I’ve defended our tribe, my husband in battle, the last thing I want is people pitting me, to have their last memory of me be this weak, emotionless stone in bed.”

 

Morga took her spear, “I won’t do that. I blame myself to this day of the injuries to took for me. I will not bed the end of your life, when there maybe a chance for you. Doctors can be wrong.”

 

“Than you’ll let me suffer a slow death?” Borghild asked shaken

 

“It is not something I can do. To kill someone I care for, we are shield sisters, and sisters to the end. Though we are not connected by blood. I’m sorry I cannot.”

 

Borghild was silent but you can tell rage was at a near peak. She drew a breath and looked away from Morga, a hateful hiss between her teeth, “Than go. But I wasn’t to say my last goodbye to Montag.” She watched as Morga left the room before coming back with her son who had side effects from crying still on his face. “Montag, you don’t need to scream to get your way.” She was doing her best to keep a well composted look to her, but it was transparent to the pain she was dealing with.

 

“Aunty Borghild, will you be alright?” Monty asked, I was hesitant to step closer and stayed at his mothers side.

 

“Physically I’m not, but that’s just part of life. I’ll get over it as soon as the baby decides it’s time. But If I don’t make it, I need you to be your best, and remember what you are taught. Take sides and risk, that’s how you’ll get places. Collect your toys I made you. That’s all I have to say.”

 

Monty walked to the table with his wooden goat toys and walked over to her, tears started to form again and he handed her the small baby goat. He walked back to his mom, pressing his head on her leg trying his best not to cry. “Bye Aunt Borghild.” He whimpered. It took him a minute to remember how to walk, and he left the house where Fang was waiting. 

 

Fang looked down at Monty as he pressed his forehead on Fangs hand, then hugged his arm tightly. Fang didn’t move or say anything, but watched as Morga walked out of the house, back to her home.


	8. Chapter 8

Monty dashed to his mother to their house, and almost slipped inside. It was a bit hard to see, tears where still developing in his eyes, but he was trying to be taught like everyone else around him, but sometime the pressure got to him. But this event caused him to lose it. 

 

“Mama!” He found her sitting on her main chair looking somewhat out of it.

 

One hand was on the arm rest of the chair, the other supporting her cheek as her elbow rest on the other arm chair. She opened her tired eyes; this was not something she needed after seeing her best friend in such a state. To hear her son’s voice hurt was a thing she always loathed only because she didn’t want him hurt. “Yes Monty…” 

 

Monty just claimed on her lap, and just rest, sniffling, his eyes all red due to the crying he displayed in the village square essentially. He just needed it; he just needed his mom at this moment. He was tired from the whole circumstances of the afternoon that he just fell asleep, resting his head on his mother’s shoulder, nuzzling his face in her fur part of her cape.

 

She was taken back a bit, Monty was always headstrong, and when he turned six, he deemed himself to old to sit on her lap. Always trying to be bigger than he was. Always wanting to grow up quickly. She placed her hand on his back to help keep him in place. With her other hand she lightly pet his hair, finding herself a bit more relaxed. She closed her eyes with him and they both feel asleep.   
Night time came, blanketing the sky with its darkness and sparkling stars. A full moon, lit the area like a pale flame. Most of the village was asleep, but the lights where still on for one house. Borghild house lights where on, and for a good reason. 

 

It was still dark when Fang heard a knock on his door. Haft asleep he slowly got up and dragged himself to the door. He looked down at the gap under the door and saw light coming through. What could anyone want this late, or early in the morning? An attack of a snow drake, musk bear? No, there would be more of a commotion, and the smell of a musk bear would wake a dead man from the grave. Never the less, someone was at the door, and whoever they were, they better have a damn good excuse to disturb him. 

 

He cracked the door slightly open, just enough to keep the warm air in his house from escaping, and just enough to see who had the gall to wake him. He saw a village doctor, blood stains on there close. The normal reaction would be to shut the door, or ask if they where okay, but Fang was so out of it, “So, you come to the reaper. Whose poor soul is he collecting tonight?” He asked sarcastically, his voice still scratchy. He looked at the doctors puzzled, almost disgusted look on their face after Fang had said that. This pissed Fang off more to the point he swung the door open nearly knocking the doctor over. “WELL!?” The doctor shook a little, but fixed their poster a motion him to follow. Fang watched as the doctor walked a bit down than turned to see if he was following. “Well shit…” Fang closed the door, put on his close, and begrudgingly followed the doctor. 

 

Both reached the door to Borghild house, and Fang just looked emotionless, unbothered by what might be ahead. Be it tired or how he figured it was going to happen. But it was just him. If she passed why wasn’t more people invited at least Morga, this made him unease. As they walked inside, the house was lit with candle lights, fire place was lit, and it was silent. Easily silent, even as Fang walked over to the bed room. The mood in the room was a hybrid of different feelings. Happy, sadness, pain, bliss, opposite emotions that shouldn’t be together. He looked first at Ivar, who was sitting beside his wife, holding a baby wrapped in furs. Fang assumed it was a baby, he then looked at Borghild, and he almost though he was looking at a fresh corps. Pale, looking blankly. Blood stain where around the bed still new and the smell of iron was still lingering. Fang lightly knocked at the wooden door frame softly. 

 

Borghild blinked, and she leaned her head forward to see Fang, and a weak smile, curved. She motioned him to come while saying, “Ivar, please take our daughter to the cooking area, so she can be warm.” She watched as Ivar complied to her, and left the room, this gave her the chance to sit up though it was visibly hard, and she couldn’t even lift more than an inch. Fang just sat down where Ivar sat and waited for her to get situated, he focused on the decoration in the room in the meantime. He than felt a soft touch of a hand on his and he turned finally to look at her. She looked better close up than from afar. “Fang, I have a favor to ask of you…”

 

“And what my dear would that be?” Though he knew the question he just asked was something he would regret.  
It almost came as a whisper as she spoke with a soft tired tone, “I need to see an old friend, work partner of ours, though you seen them more than I have lately.” 

 

“And who would that be my dear?” 

 

“Funny, I’ve been avoiding them for years, but I think it’s time, my time…Fang I’ve asked Morga this, but she refused. I’m suffering, as I feared I would. I’ll die soon, but it’s a painful death, a slow one. I’ve payed the price of delivering my beautiful child with my life. So I want to speed the process, not have my husband watch me die slowly, not have visitors come to wish me well, I just want peace. Sleep, and I’m very tired, but I can’t seem to leave. Please, do me this one think in your kindness.”

 

Fang moved his hand away looking at her with a serous expression, “You’re asking me to help end your life? Thought you were a strong warrior, shield sister to Morga, and shield maiden to Ivra.”

 

“And a warrior knows when it’s to lower their weapons and accept the end. I’ve avoided death long enough.” She looked at him with a pleading look, more so than before, “I know you do this in battle with warriors that are suffering in the end.” She watches him get up and began to plead holding out her hand grasping at his sleeve. “Just make the pain stop, I don’t want the look of pity to go when people see me, that’s all I’ll see in my last moments. I want Morga to think I died in my sleep; I want the villagers to wake up knowing I’ve moved on without suffering. To see my friends, ones that I fought with, protective, that I never want to see me like this.”

 

Fang pulled his arm away, looking at her, “Is it pride that make you say this?” He slowly started making his way to the door.

 

“No.” She replied, her voice shaking, “I don’t want others to I care about see me die like this. I don’t want Mortag to see me like this. It’s not far to them.” 

 

Fang stopped, she had a point, and Fang didn’t want to deal with Monty crying if he was being honest. He could tell she was suffering now, and that if he was in her place, he would want the same. But it wouldn’t make the decision any easier. He stayed silent for a moment and sighed, “I shall give you your last wish. However, I need to prepare it in the meantime. I’ll return before the break of dawn. In these few hours I want you to spend time with your husband, and new daughter. Or I won’t do this. This is not in act of kindness only because I pity for being so weak.” And with that ending note, he walked out of the room, walked past the doctor and Ivar who was still holding his daughter and left the house.

 

Borghild called for her husband and there daughter. When her husband sat down next to her he looked so sad. He was a man with few words but he spoke to his wife with a crushing heart in his chest, “Borghild, you asked Fang to help you with death?”

 

Borghild was cradling her daughter, but when she heard this she started to tremble, lowering her head to look down at her child as she quickly cried, “Why?” She whispered, so broken at this point, “Why did you hear our conversation?”

 

“I didn’t hear anything, but I’m your husband, I’ve seen a lot with you, and have been there for you. I know when you give up, but I know why, and I’m with you. And I’m sorry.” He rest his forehead on his wife shoulder.

 

Time was on the assents as Fang collected poisons flowers, root of wolf band, death bell, nightshade. He also added a perfectly preserve red rose, white lily, then finally lavender. He put the flowers in a granite mortar, and grind it with the pestle tell it became a powder with different range of color. He took a glass vial from the top of his office shelf, put tea leaf of passionflower, and chamomile before adding water and putting it in an iron tea pot and hung it over the fire place and continued with the powder as he added honey with the poisonous mixture. He looked outside his window and saw that the sky was getting slightly more of a light blue and that meant time was of the essence. The last thing he did was pricking his own tum on his knife, and putting a single drop of his blood in the mixture.

 

The tea was ready and he poured the tea the vial than put the honey mixed with the powered and walked out to go back to Borghild house. He walked to there room after pushing the doctor away, and he looked at Ivar, Borghild, and the baby. “Borghild…” He said lightly, “It’s time.”

 

Ivar got up from his set and walked over to Fang and they both glared at one another, “This better not make my wife suffer more than she already has.” He said in an aggressive tone.

 

“It’s not, you have my word.” Fang replied calmly, “The last thing I want to do is make you made and her suffer more. It’ll be painless, and quick. She’ll fall asleep and become numb, and sleep as her heart slowly stops. I’ve done this for all the critically wounded warriors if I know they aren’t going to make it. But I’ve always given them a chose.”

 

Ivar went back to his wife, brushed her hair with a light touch of his fingers, “I’ll be beside you.” He gave her one lass peck on the lips.

 

Borghild looked tired, but happy even though she was in so much pain. Holding her child close, savoring every minute of being the best mother she could in her last hours of life. She finally looked at Fang and gave him a soft smile, “I’m ready…”

 

Fang walked over, handed her the dink, “May you rest easy and go on new a new adventure.”

 

She gave a soft laugh, “Death can’t be an adventure.”

 

“We’ll we never know what happens next, I’ll like to think it’s something new.” He walked away but stopped at the door way and gave a bow. “Requiem facilis.” Was the last thing he said as he walked out the door.

 

The sun raised to the hours of early morning when others were walking up the news of the birth of Ivar and Borghild child was known, but so was Borghild death. Morga knew it was going to happen, so she sent other tribe members to prepare her shield sister with the proper material for her to be buried. But after that she isolated herself to her house. 

 

The one who took Borghild passing the harshest was Monty who distance himself from the village after seeing his aunt on her death bed. He was kicking snow, rocks, clicking his fist and kicking trees, anything. He was so distraught, his whole face was red and he left desterd snow trail behind him, and broken tree branches.

 

“It’s not FAIR!” Monty yelled as he threw a rock at a tree, “IT’s not FAIR!” Tear burned his cheeks as he yelled. “Why did she need to die?! It’s all the baby’s fault? If she was never born Aunty Borghild would still be alive. SO SELFISH! She left me!” He then heard leaf’s being moved and turn and amid a rock at the noise and saw Fang standing there looking calm. “What do YOU want!? Come to make me do training!?” Monty voice was shaking, and he’s tears where just pouring out of him. Fang step closer and Monty just threw the rock over Fang shoulder, “Leave me alone! I don’t need you! I don’t need anyone, so get away!” He tired throwing a rock again, but it just landed at Fang feet as Monty just collapsed to his knees and cried hard, burring his face in the cold snow with his hands holding on to his hair. He heard the sound of snow being crushed and a hand was lightly placed on his shoulder. He looked up, his eyes puffy, nosed dripping and tears still slid off his cheek as he looked at Fang who sat next to him.

 

Fang sat with his legs crossed, and put his hand away from Monty after he looked up at Fang. He didn’t say a word. He just sat there next to this crying kid that he had to help train. But he never trained Monty, nor did his mom, prepared him for moments like these. And Fang wasn’t good at being completely sympathetic but he knew that this was the first death of someone Monty really cared about. He finally said something, “I’m here for you.” He left it at that, and looked on forward.

 

Monty stopped sniffling at lest and vent some more, “Why did she have to die? Why does anyone have to die!? It’s not fair!?” He punched the snow and digging at the frozen dirt under it. But before long he grew tired and his tempter, wrath, became only sadness with weariness. He just looked down, but he felt himself being picked up, and before he knew Fang was carrying him on his shoulders and he hid his face in Fang hair, “I’m scared.”

 

“It’s okay to be. Everyone get’s scared. Emotions is helps us to survive. What your feeling his normal. We’re here for you when you need it. You don’t have to be on your own all the time…” He heads back to the village, but took his time so Monty could cry some more if needed before walking into the village.


	9. Chapter 9

It had been three weeks after Borghild death and Monty was still taking it pretty hard. Morga held off on his training, but she knew that Monty needed to continue again. 

 

She walked with him to the training area, “Monty, I know your still grieving, but it’s time to have you train again.” She looked down at her son who was not listening to a word she was saying, but looked down with unhappy expression. She felt herself caving in but she didn’t want to watch him cry a river again, “Go with Fang, he’s on a solo hunt to practice his archery. Why don’t you help him than come back and I’ll teach you how to use a spear?” She guided him along to the front of the gate of the village and was just in time to find Fang on his way out.

 

He turned and looked at them, holding his black wood arrows with red feathers in his holder, his left hand gripping the iron bow. “And how can I help you?”

 

“Could you take him with you? He needs to get out, have him practice.” Morga had helped Monty with his arrow shoulder strap.

 

Monty was just looking down, not really if at all paying attention. He was a bit startled after his mother lightly pushed him to go with Fang as he started to walk away. Usually he would be slightly excited to have the opportunity to hunt, but he was going through the loss of a friend and the thought of his mortality. 

 

Fang didn’t particularly care, long that Monty was quiet he didn’t seem to mind. He would glance behind him every so often to see if he was keeping up. They both stopped at a bit of a clear area of the forest, not much trees, a small rock cliff above them. Fang walked around and looked down at some tracks that was imprinted on the snow. As he looked over the small smell was still lingering. 

 

“Musk bear seems like it might be close by…” He grabbed a small hand full of snow and threw it up into the air and watched to see what the wind direction was. But it was still, the now just dropped without moving. Fang loaded his bow with on of his iron arrows hunching his back a bit. He motions Monty with a tilt of his head to stay close. 

 

They both ventured further until they ran into a corps of a deer, haft eaten but still fresh. And the looks of the teeth markings hinted that the creator was big. Everything was very still, eerily still. Monty didn’t dare to make a sound and Fang was on high alert. He lead to higher ground where the steep mountain of rocks where located. He figured if they both had a solid item behind them, then at lest they won’t have to worry about something getting them from behind. 

 

They both where haft way up the mountain when this horrific smell began to pick up. The fowl smell of what could describe as rotting corpse with the hint of the smell of fish and month old unwashed sweaty socks. Both Monty and Fang gagged and Fang looked around to see where the musk bear was. With that strong of a stench, the must bear wasn’t that far, and he was right. 

 

Fang looked down the mountain to see the bear charging at them. This huge bear, bigger than the average size, early matched the height of one of the very large boulders that the bear was passing. 

 

Its brown fur had what looked like it was dipped in dried blood with guts, and usually they did to trick there pray. Fang quickly picked up Monty and ran to the wall of the mountain and put him on a very high edge to keep him safe. 

 

Fang jumped down and aimed his arrow right in the middle of the charging bears forehead. The bear’s weight and height caused it to be sluggish, and slow moving, but still a threat. It lunched at Fang and with the quill of the bow, Fang realest and arrow, but it only bounces off the must bears face, and the result was not pretty. The musk bear road, and the breath of the bear was then it’s fur. The smell could have killed a flower if it was in the danger zone. Fang skedded a bit further down, avoiding the potential danger that Monty could face, and kept trying to get the bear to charge at him. But the bear was on its way to Monty, seeing as he was easy prey. 

 

Monty kept throwing rocks at the bears head, calling the bear horrible names like, fish breath, poo fur, and slug water. The rocks where not slowing the bear down though, as it started to clime the rock Monty was on leaving Monty to begin to panic. Fang diched his bow for his sword that was a ebony black with a red coloring on the curve of the sword that went down to the tip. As Fang was running full speed to the bear a huge, gigantic drake head lifted up from the now that was on top of the cliff, and it’s long neck leaded down and with its long sharp rows of blood stained fangs, bit the bear and lifted the struggling animal in the air before tossing it and biting it in haft. 

 

Monty was inches away from the drakes’ neck when it bent down to take the bear, and seeing a hug animal taking out a bear that big in one go was terrifying. Fang fell on the ground having to stop before sinking his sword into the bear. As the drake was chewing his smelly prize, Fang ran over to where Monty was and gestured him to jump. But Monty was petrified, and couldn’t move. He just watched as the blood from the bear was dripping down the rocks above him almost like a dark crimson waterfall, the sound of bones being crushed and chewed was drowning out his rapid heartbeat. Small droplets of blood bounced off the snow, and the smell was revolting. Fang put away his sword realizing that Monty was to afraid to move, and he claimed the rock to get him while the drake was eating. 

 

“Let’s go!” Fang whisper in an aggressive tone, snapping Monty out of his trance. Fang picked him up and jumped down the small rock cliff that was underneath the drake and slowly moved out of the way of the hill, but the small rocks under his feet moved causing an eco of sound, stopping the drake from eating and turning its head to the sound of the noise. Fang freezes, looking up at the drake, it’s scales where shinny white like the new fall of snow, hints with different shades of blues and black talons. Its white empty eyes locked onto them and it stood up on all fours, roaring spitting out red chunks of the bear from its mouth. 

 

The drake started to climbed down the wall of the rock headed towards them, hissing. Fang stared to run, still carrying Monty, picking up his fallen bow with his free hand. Monty was looking back at the drake as it effortlessly plowed threw the snow, and trees, breaking rocks, and scratching tree trunks with its sharp spikes round his back. Fang whistled for Mortem, and stopped, picking up a hand full of snow and throwing the snow while intertwining it with magic, causing a thick fog to form, and blanket the area, giving Fang the time to hide Monty behind a group of huge rocks. 

 

“Do not move.” Fang pointed at Monty with the utmost serious tone, and facial expression. He jumped over the rocks, leaving Monty to stay down.

 

The fog wasn’t a long-lasting spell, especially given that Fang didn’t expose it to enough magic. But it did it’s job on confusing the monster. Fang crouched low, on the other side of the group of rocks, behind a tree, watching the drake, it’s back facing him. Fang silently loaded his bow with an arrow, changeling a fire spell, which crawled up the black arrow, causing it to be set a blazed but still maintaining the arrow from within it. He released it, hitting the monster on the back of its right jaw, causing it to screech in pain, and it swung its spiked tail around blindingly at the trees, almost hitting Fang. Fang dived under the drake and stabbed it in its chest with his dagger, before getting out from underneath. 

 

The drake lifted its body, it’s left hand over the wounded area while it roared again. It finally sees Fang and lunched at him, but Fang was expecting that and cased the ground in front of him with a wall of spike ice, scratching the drake in the face. A howl was let out from a different animal, distracting the drake and before the monster knew it, Fangs wolf was on the back of the bested biting the thick scales, digging its teeth in it, drawing blood. The drake rammed its side into trees, rocks, and the snow from the ground, causing Mortem to fly off and slammed into a tree. Mortem rolled back up and lunged back at the monster, keeping one of its tail from rising up, while Fang clashed his sword at the beasties face, aiming for the eyes. But the head of the drake had a thick layer of scales and a shell that shelled him from Fangs stabs. 

 

The drake threw Mortem away from its tail, and used one of the spikes at the end to stab Mortem in the hip, causing Mortem to yelp and squirm in the snow. This pissed off Fang to the point where his once blue eye turns into a deep but bright red, the color of blood of a fresh wound. Mortem slowly got up and noticed that the drake was heading in the direction of the boulder Monty was hiding behind, and jumped in front of the drake bearing it’s teeth, growling, standing in a aggressive position, even as blood was running down the wolfs leg, Mortem still had the strength to nip and lunge at the best, causing it to back away. 

 

The drake slammed on the ground, almost crushing Mortem, and was about to due it again when a spire perched at its eye from a great distance causing it to fall backwards. Morga leaped in front of Mortem looking discussed at the bested, holding her extra spire. Her falcon perched on her shoulder. “Take one step towards my son, and I’ll make hell a place you want to go to.” She sneered. The drake got back up, still having the spire in its eyes, it’s once white eyes where now a bright cold blue. It stared down at her and lunged at her, and she bucked piercing the drake under it’s jaw, threw it’s nose before pulling her weapon out. Mortem went to Monty and started pushing him away from the fight, limping as he did so. 

 

Fang stabbed his sword in the rib cage or the drake causing a spray of blood to stain him, as he gets. He got a fallen piece of a large trunk and yelled, “Morga, launch!” She ran to him as he put the broken wood piece over his head, and she jumped, using the tree trunk as a launch pad, while Fang gave her the extra boosted. She than began to stab her spear into the head of the beast, even as the best thrashed around.  
Fang had enough with the drake, and pricked himself with one of his arrows, letting his blood trickle down. The blood thin spreading like a vine around the arrow, as it glowed. “Fuck off you son of a-“ He let go of the arrow using his bow, and it struck the drake in it’s good eye, and the blood spread quickly threw the drake, and small red spikes busted from the body of the drake where the blood was spreading which was everywhere. Morga jumped off, taking her spire with her and stood next to Fang as they watch as the pitiful monster, squirmed on the ground as the spike grew from it’s body slowly killing it. 

 

She looked at him seeing his eye color change back to his usual sapphire eye color, “You could have done that sooner?”

 

“I don’t even want to hear it right now.” He looked around, followed the blood trail of his dog with Morga following behind looking back on the bested as it’s body slowly decayed. They soon heard sobbing and rushed over to find Monty shaking Mortem who was laying on the ground not moving, but clearly alive. 

 

“Get up Mortem where almost home.” Monty said with a trembling pleading voice. He was shaking the wolf, and heard Mortem breathing and letting out small whines. Morga placed a hand on his shoulder and genially pulled him away. “Ma help Mortem, he’s not doing good.”

 

“I’m aware. But shaking him won’t help.” She picked him up, “Fang has a way to fix him. Let’s get you cleaned up and give them space.” She began to walk without saying another word leaving Fang to help Mortem. 

 

“Looks like Monty isn’t the only one that needs more training.” Fang bent down at the wound. “We both where a bit sloppy.” He cut the palm of his hand and placed it over the wound, and when he lifted it back up, Mortem wound was healed. Fang picked his wolf up and carried him back to the village.


	10. Chapter 10

The heavy winter snows in the south subsided a little as spring came close. Western and Eastern tribes supply at their small forts making easy target from the southern tribe to take over. The food was mainly what they were after, but they could use extra of anything be it wood from the small temporary buildings. Lutz who was Morga husband, and the clan leader have taken more into the role after recovering from a bad cold that lasted most of the winter. He did not take any ideas from Fang or Morga at all from their original plan on taking over parts of the small camps of the Western and Eastern. The raids, though being successful where what Fang and even Morga would say was clumsy, or messy. 

 

Fang wanted to use the supplies of armor and weapons as a way to cover the identities of the tribe to not become entangled in the war or the worst case have both clans turn on them. But Lutz be an old stubborn man, much older than Morga, still reviled in the pass stories of not only in his family and tribe history of pass glory and victories, but his. He believed what he was doing was right and how nothing bad would happen and it was something they always did to begin with in Lutz younger years. Lutz didn’t like that Fang was stepping in his territory, he wasn’t even a part of the tribe, yet had more of his fellow men respected along with the respect of his wife who should be more on his side. The biggest insult to Lutz was that Morga entrusted Fang more so on plans than her husband who was born to be the leader.  
Be it in men’s nature, ever since Fang had started to become more involved with the clan, what Lutz would consider his, the more he skeptical on the time spent with Morga and Fang. Gossip would come and go regarding affairs, but more of the time every adult in the clan were said to have an affair, but for the leader’s wife to be of a cruel gossip put a lot of speculation of Lutz abilities outside of him being leader. Lutz had pride, so he would taunt, talk down to, and minimize Fang to protect his ego. Even when Fangs concern for the clan was valid, Lutz ignore him seeing as he knew what was best for the clan.

 

Morga and Fang where more like siblings, Fang mocking Lutz behind his back and having fun hearing Morga vent of how her husband behavior wasn’t exceptional for Monty to take as a leader. She didn’t have much of a chose when it came to their marriage. It wasn’t necessary arranged it was more like Morga volunteered to it. Even being a young adult before Monty was ever born, Morga knew the clan wasn’t doing well, and when Lutz was younger, just taking to be leader she knew he wasn’t looking out for the clan, she though being his wife would give her more influence and care for her tribe which was really the only cause of two why she agreed to the marriage. Even back than Fang was a trusting friend she relied on. Fang had more experience and was much older considering of how he looked. Morga appreciated the view point of a level headed person with more experience than a food driven one.

 

“Looks like he won the northern side of one of the camps.” Fang said while glaring at Lutz who was parading his victory items to his clan, giving out items to random members of the tribe as if to win their favor.

Morga stood next to him, holding the now three-month-old baby girl of Borghild and Ivar. Ivar have given his daughter her mother’s name though nontraditional. Morga was babysitting her while keeping the clan in check, and while Fang trained Monty a little on his swordsmanship. But with Lutz blindly and carelessly raiding the camps of the enemy, slaying lots of the members in the other clans, made Morga uneased. She had even had to dispatch intruders of the other clans that where getting to close to the village on her walks. “He’s being careless. He’s leading them to where we are. And I can’t get anyone else to speak out against this since he’s giving out free items.”

 

Ivar walked over to Morga from the wagon the clan brought with them. He took his daughter back after wiping blood off of his face with an old cloth from the raid. “Thank you Morga…” Ivan left he wasn’t that much of a talker to begin with. 

 

Morga and Fang watched as Lutz stride his way over to them as if deserving of some kind of groveling at his feet. But what he got was two adults glaring down at him. He was short by two inches compared to his wife. “We have enough food to last three whole weeks. Thanks to me.”

 

“Make it two since I’m sure you’ll spend the food that could last for a week would be spent being cooked just to celebrate your victory.” Fang snapped.

 

Morga lightly pushed Fang to the side, “Go check on Monty he’s been noiseless for a bit too long.” She watched as the two men glared at one another before Fang decided to walk towards the training area.

 

Lutz scoffed, “Stick in the mud. It all went well and he always haves a snarky comment.”

 

Morga could care less if Fang said a snarky comment, she had other pressings concerns though she knew it would fall on deaf ears again. “Lutz, your boldness is going to catch up to you, and eventually the tribe. Lay off the raids it’s brings unwanted attention that we can’t afford.” 

 

Lutz raised an eyebrow unmoved, “So you’re on his side?”

 

“There’s no sides, be a grown adult Lutz. I’m saying that if you continue with this it may have bad consequences.” She watched as her husband walks off.

 

Fang and Monty where practicing footing balance when Lutz walks in on them. He invited himself in the lesion throwing off what Fang was trying to show Monty about guarding. 

 

“So, how’s Fang teaching you? You understand what he’s explaining Montag?” Lutz asked looking down at his son standing between the two of them. 

 

Monty nodded, “Yeah though the sword is a bit heavy to use.”

 

“Why are you not giving him a wooden sword?” He asked Fang looking at him.

 

Fang crossed his arms, “It’s his first time holding a real one, we practiced with wooden swords and I want him to understand he has to not only balance himself, but the sword. If you don’t like how I teach then pleased, feel free to take over. I need to make plans on how to fix up your upcoming messes anyway.” He walked off, he felt the urge to pick a fight but seeing as Monty was there and not wanting to waste time on someone, he considered cheaper than dirt, he was going to be the bigger man and walk off taking Mortem with him.

 

Lutz watched Fang walk off and turned his attention to his boy, “I’ll show you how a real warrior fight.” He pats his son shoulder smiling at him with shire confidence. 

 

It was nightfall already, and the clan was gathering in the main hall for the fest. All the clan members where there except for Morga, she had a bad feeling that something was going to happen. She only could watch, and hear her fellow clan members celebrate while she took to her patrol.  
Morga came back and everyone in the clan was asleep in the dinning hall again. Monty was sleeping on his dads lap as Lutz was passed out. Shouldn’t say that all the clan members where asleep. Most of the wives, and mother where cleaning up, and getting there children up to take home. Morga came up to one of the younger mothers an offered to help.

 

“If it wasn’t for us, this place would fall apart.” The young mother said holding her new born.

 

“We spoil them to much….” Morga said as she took some of the plats out of the young women’s hands so she could hold her child better. She smelled something burning coming from outside, and before long a middle age woman burst in looking terrified. 

 

This woke up the dazed clan male members from there nap as the women shouted, “We’re being attacked!”

 

Morga leaped into action, “Get up, haft of you take the women and children to safety, the rest get your weapons, I won’t allow these intruders to walk out in one piece. We’ll give them a fight.” She led the way holding her spear. Lutz got up, holding Monty and giving him to one of the older women to take to safety. Most of the women that where leading the children away knew how to fight and where capital of handing themselves and the children. They went threw a underground exit in a hurry before one of the men pushed a table over the trap door.

 

Outside the houses where on fire, and the ash and smoke made it difficult to see but the flashes of movements or men on horseback. Lutz held his sword leading the fight. Considering he was buzzed he still held to his feet and commanded with his voice mixed with rage and pride. 

 

Lutz took out one of the men on a horse and recondited the outfits their enemies where wearing, and unimpressed to Morga it was the Western clan. “Alright I was wrong.”

 

Morga and Lutz heard an arrow fly pass them and in a man that was charging on a horse, and Fang runs over to them holding his bow, “You don’t say.” 

 

Lutz, Morga, and Fang, Mortem along with the other tribe members fight off the Wester clan menders, with arrows flying, swords and spears clashing, everything was on fire at this point. Even though it was hard to see the fight still carried on strong. But them is ended abruptly, with the Western clan retreating out the ruin village. 

 

At first shouts of victory where yelled and weapon pointing in the air. It was to easy. 

 

Lutz went over to his wife and Fang, “We should them for damn sure, watch them run with their tail between their legs.”

 

“Something doesn’t seem right about it…” Morga looked up hearing her hunting falcon Jaeger fly to her shoulders as if telling her something. “What-.” With that she ran off leaving the rest to where Jaeger lead, which was the exit of the tunnel the women and children went through. She looked at the horse tacks and there where scatter of footprints indicating fighting and running happened, a dead body of a western clan member was there. She followed the trail and heard a small sneeze under a pile of snow. She rushed over and uncovered a boy, her son. She wasn’t internally surprisingly, but was happy that her son’s talent of getting away got him out of the mess. “Monty what happened?”

 

Monty, looked dazed, rubbing his head, “I don’t know. I just remember falling in the snow.” 

 

They both heard noise and where them joined by the resto of the remaining clan members. 

 

Most of them where husbands, or older son who started looking around. Even Lutz helped to search. Fang walked around as well and had Mortem sniff to find anyone else, and to their surprised a few child members of them clan where found, and then pretty much all of them. 

 

Dads went to their children and big brothers helped their younger siblings brush the snow off of them, they where found like Monty was. The older ones tried to recalled what happen, and the younger children where crying for their mothers. From what it seemed the Western tribe just wanted the ladies of the south clan, which was a grim application of what might happen to the wives, and mothers. 

 

“Where’s Borghild?!” Ivar shouted as he dug everywhere for his baby. 

 

One of the girls spoke up, “They took the babies to...” She said rubbing the tears off her cheeks.

 

Ivar stoked silent and then charged at Lutz and grabbed him, and everyone started to try to get Ivar off. “This is YOUR FALT!”

 

Morga stepped in, “Ivar let go of Lutz, this isn’t helping.”

 

Fang, lightly grabbed Ivar shoulder, “Your scaring the kids more.” Ivar dropped Lutz and turned away and walked a way from the clan for a bit. Fang spoke again, “So I think some should go back to the remaining bits of the village, get some furs, basic supplies we need, and a wagon if we are lucky and get the kids warm, while we track to where these pigs took our tribe members. And Lutz before you disagree with me, your pans resulted in the mess, so keep your mouth shut.”

 

Morga nodded, “Lets make sure the children are alright, get them some furs, and see what we can salvage that could be of use to us. Faster we get there now, the faster we can get everyone back.”


	11. Chapter 11

Morga took complete charge of the mess her husband has caused their clan. After organizing groups of four, one to gather what was left, and to rebuild some of the burnt buildings, second group was to collect weapons and two fix them if necessary, third group, which mainly consisted of the younger teens that where old enough to babysit the younger tribe members, and the last group where the older, more experienced of warriors, all in a circle around a fire, making plans and strategies to get their wives, and sisters back. 

 

“We have little time to go through all plans, so I want plans that are realistic, and well thought out to be talked about. Summarize it, we have no times for drawn out talks.” Morga expressed with hot temper in her voice matching the flames. At first no one spoke up, there was a lot of looking at one another, but no one was talking, and the fuse to Morga temper seemed to shorten, “Are none of you brave enough to speak out, we are trying to save the kidnapping of our tribe, our families, and none of you have the words on your tongue to speak? At this point even the dumbest ideas are welcome if that gives you the back bone you need to talk.” Still no answer, “Come on my son can come up with something.”

 

The mood was heavy and grim, perfect for Fang to cut with some humor, “We could trade Lutz for them, though it might not be a fair trade since Lutz worth ten times less than them.” He rubbed his chin, “Maybe lower, but that’s not what we are discussing.” He only got a displeased small headshake from Morga, before shrugging unbothered. “Worth a shot.”

 

Finally, some poor brave soul spoke up, his old white beard covered with snowflakes his face was carved with wrinkles making many years he lived through, “We could form an ambush, we don’t have time together info on how many members are holding our families, but if we strike the right time, it could work.” 

 

Morga face soften at the old man, “Thank you Afi , that does sound like a promising idea, however we may not have the time, and lets face it the number of men to take on that plan, we might walk into a death tunnel if we go in so boldly.”

 

A middle age man spoke, “Why not have Fang do elemental magic, he could create a thick fog, to cover us, we have white scales, and fur we can cover our self with to blend in with the snow. We may not have to fight them, we could at lest get the women and children out without losing such values of the scales and furs.” 

 

“These are our wives, daughters, and granddaughters, we are talking about saving. The cost of the furs and scales should not even be thought of incombered to what our families are worth.” A man snapped, jabbing his finger at the middle age man. 

 

An argument was about to reach before Morga dissolved it before it could evolve into a fight, “Keep your weapons down, save your anger for the enemies. I know you have families in enemy hands, your anger is justified but anger doesn’t lead to proper planning,” She darts a glare at Lutz before continuing, “It’s close to dark, we can combine the ideas of the thick fog, and furs.”

 

“We can have spread groups to draw our enemies out while a second croup with the camouflage to get out clan members to safety.” Another man chime in.

 

Along with another man adding, “We can give the experience women warriors, weapons to fight alongside us, and some to protect the younger, or elderly members.”

 

The men in the group all seemed to agreed, with this new confidence arising from them. Morga grabbed her spear, tapped the bottom of it on a rock as to call for order. “It’s settled, men get your weapons, the scales and white fur coats, we hunt, we get our family members back, and teach those basters a lesion.” As soon as she finished, all the men from the group ran to get their prized weapons, and any supplies they need for this plan to work. Morga sighed, and felt a light hand on her shoulder. She tired ready with a glare thinking it was her husband but to her surprised it was just her friend Fang, no words where exchange just the expression of calm and a proud dimeter as he let go to help out the others. She looked to see her husband, standing behind a tree, his arms crossed, not looking at Morga, though her eyes clearly where piercing at him. She knew that Lutz felt ashamed, but she never pitted him, for his pride got him into this mess. She walked up to him, thinking he may hear a kind word from his wife, but Morga, with just a pinch of patience for this man, let out the words, “You’ll stay here.” She went to meet up with her men.

 

For this plan to work, her group had to travel on foot, the snow up to their waist. Morga lead the line through the Western clan snow trail Jaeger found. Morga eagle lead the way and finally perched itself on a twig flapping its wings before flying back to his master. Morga ordered her men to stop with a wave of her hand, as they crouched standing on the small hillside that had and over view of the Western clan camp sight. This is what was what appeared to be left of the Western clan, after Lutz and the other members of the south, almost wiping them out completely. There was a campfire outside of the small building, and near the campfire with six large poles with five members of Morga clan tide with their hand behind there back. 

 

There were two men, one covering his left ear, while holding a sword, pacing in the snow. The other man was sitting next to the campfire holding a rope, and small cloth. The man holding his ear finally spoke up, “Why are we here sitting ducks, while the rest of the clan is slowly relocating? Hell one of them bit by ear off like an animal! I knew that the south clan fought like animals, but I didn’t think they were that animalist.”

 

The other man huffed, annoyed at the other man squabbling, “Hrut it’s temporary, and maybe if you didn’t try anything stupid to one of them, you would still have two ears to hear with. We are here to just keep an eye on them tell our clan members come back.”

 

Hrut grabbed a handful of freshly fallen snow on the ground, and groaned as he pressed the snow on his ear to stop the bleeding. “You always have something cheeky to say Yrar.”

 

“It’s not being cheeky I’m just restating what we were told. Now keep quiet we don’t want to draw any kind of attention to us.” He then felt a rock hit the side of his head, causing him to fall on the ground. He quickly stood up, snarling now at the women, “Who did that?!” He glared at them, “Come one, I’m not mad, just want to know.” Then there was the scream and cries of a baby, followed than by five more, and Hrut sigh frustratedly loud. Yrar turned to him, “We just need the women realistically, and the babies are just liabilities we can’t afford when we have to move them along with whatever left is here.”

 

“You’re not suggesting- “

 

“Yes, I’m suggesting it!” Yrar got up and stormed into the house, slamming them door behind him, and it got the women quiet, as he stormed back out holding a baby carelessly, throwing the child on the thick soft snowy ground in front of one of the poles with the most resistance tribe members. 

 

The screaming of the child amplified and from the hill top, Ivar blood boiled as he recognized his daughter’s cries, automatically standing up while his fellow man tried to get him to crouch back down before being seen. But it was no use, this giant of a man, welding a large battle axe, holding the gaze of an executioner, stormed down the hill, with one goal in mind. Morga signaled to Fang, seeing no use to hold Ivra back at this point. It was now or never, as the heavy thick fog entered the terrain, all that anyone one could see was the camp fire. Morga took one of her mans bow and arrow, lit the tip of it quickly with her flint, and by memory shoot the arrow at one of the poles as a marker for the not so trained fighters to cut the captors lose. She handed back the bow and jumped down from the hill top, and slid down next to Ivra to give him her support as the rest of the clan ran down like a pack of wolves to their pray.

 

The two man stopped what they where doing as the thick fog engulfed their small camp base, and they see what they could tell was a giant, with a large axe over its shoulder, before seeing a smaller figure, to hard to see, and to face to catch any other possible physical attributes they could tell, go right into the houses. The giant grabbed Yrar and with no effort sent him flying to a nearby tree with its fist. The other man cowered at its feet, stumbling with his words, but went along the lines ‘I’m sorry’, ‘Don’t hurt me.’ Hrut voice shaking pathetically. Hrut heard the nose of snow being moved by foot, and as the fog subsided, he was now cowering at the now thirdly freed women, now some reunited with their sons, and husbands surrounding the camp sight.   
Morga walked back out of the small house with a handful of weapons, and a baby, “If your child is in there, collect them and head back to the clan, take weapons with you. If any of you want to fight, grab your weapon of chose, there is plenty in the house.” She moved to the group recognizing the mother of the child she was holding, and handed the small boy over to his mom and handing the weapons in her hand to the women who were eager to get even. A small group of ladies dragged the unconscious Yrar, and the terrified Hrut to one of the poles they where kept and tied the man there and shoved a small piece of cloth in each of there mouth to shut them up. One blond young what was a captive, with a dried blood trail down the side of her mouth, kicked Hrut in his lower extremities before what appeared to be her mother, and older lady holding her away to calm her daughter down, though there where the small group cheering her on. Families seemed to be catching up, making sure one another were okay, and a small group of men walked with the women with children back to the clan to reconnect with their friends and family. Even Ivra, the giant on the battle field was seen holding his child, completely covering his daughter forehead with small kisses and his bear hair covering most of her face. 

 

Morga went over to Hrut who was muffling in pain, and leaned down taking the cloth out of his mouth, “Where is the rest of your clan?”

 

Hrut coughed shivering, “I’m not telling you anything.”

 

Morga huffed and took her spear and stood up and lunged it into Yrar chest where there was a brief sound of a soft exhale of air from Yrar before her spear was pulled out and pointed the bloody tip mere inches away from Hrut nose, “Don’t make me ask again.”

 

Hruts looked at the spear before looking at Morga, “They all are relocating somewhere else, I don’t know where, but they are coming back here tonight at some point to help with moving the women.” His words where rushed and shaky. “That’s all I know I swear.” He felt the cloth being put back in as he watches Morga walking to Fang.

 

Morga stood next to her second in command, “How many do you think will come?”

 

Fang looked at the round, than at the land and small campsite, “I’m guessing not a lot since there goal was to just take the female members to repopulate, I can ask the member that where kidnapped here a number, but even than it maybe a small amount of the true number. It’s your call Morga.” Fang just rested his right hand on his sword, his hair like many others covered with snowflakes.

 

Morga tighten her grip of her spear, closed her eyes as to think clearly on what to do before opening them back up again. “If we don’t fight, they will come back and potentially wipe us out completely. We have all our skilled fighters here and there’s more then fifty of us. I don’t see another option than to attack them here. I won’t let anyone of them survive and to be a risk to our people again. I want to finish it here an now. Do you have any magic left to cast a thick fog again?”

 

“I do, just say the word. I can do some illusion spells to make us appear to have more numbers if you want that as well.”

 

“No, I want the fog to do most of the covering.” Morga turned to her people all of them holding weapons, and shields waiting on a word of what to do next. “All of you take cover and stay out of sight, if you have a bow and arrows to shoot with go on higher ground. We are treating this as an ambush like another but leave no one in the western clan alive.” There was a load cheer before Fang conjured up another fog.

 

Back at the clan, Monty was begrudgingly helping the others rebuild the houses, even with his fake crys of a splitter in his hand, or hurting his foot with a block of wood, with Morga not around the clan pushed Monty to help. But even with his small contributes to the work he just made things worse, most likely on purpose to get out of manual labor he wasn’t use to.   
Lutz was also helping, as if to not only to repair the damages done from the western clan, but also his image with his clan. He knew how badly he screwed up, his pride was hurt, he lost respect of his wife, and felt like a wounded animal. His son walked next to him pouting. Lutz sighed before finally addressing Monty attitude, “Hey everyone is helping, even leaders have to help their people with fixing buildings.”

 

“Yeah I know, just don’t see why they are bossing us around, aren’t we the leaders, they should be caring most of the heavy stuff.”

 

“Well Monty, being leader you some times have tot carry more than just the responsibilities of leadership. You have to help build relationships with other clan members, they work with you, and if your kind to them they will make leading easier.”

 

“Pa do the clan members hate you now? Some haven’t spoken about you in kind after ma left.”

 

“Monty, I made and small…” Luzt searched for the right word.

 

Monty chimed in, “Oopsies?”

 

Lutz raised an eyebrow and looked at Monty, “Uh…sure, oopsies that’ll work.” Though he sounded unsure if that word was appropriate for massively damaging not only the living space of his clan, but also perhaps physical damages as well. “It’s just a bump in the road, we’ll come back from this, Scourge of the South clan has always come back from loses.” He said this with some confidence, it was true but it hasn’t happened in quite some time. “Monty put the wood down here and hand me some nails and a hammer.” 

 

“Okay.” Monty ran off to a near by barrel with the supplies his father asked but than got distanced by the sounds of horses, and a wagon making its way to the clan. He dropped everything and raced to the gate to investigate what was happening like so many others, the children all huddles in one group waiting to find out if their siblings and parents returned.   
All the clan members, except for Luzt, where all gathered at the ruined gate frame to the clan and saw all the lost members that stayed to fight the western clan, striding in with furs and food, along with a wagon full of weapons and furs with food. New horses where being ride in and tided to a pole, one horse was led by Morga who was helping a wounded younger clan member back. 

 

The children at the gate all spilled out to find their mothers and fathers. Monty found his mother and gave a brief hug. Morga silently walked back in what was left of the building of her clan to help rebuild even after a long fight.


End file.
